Left Behind
by Driver Jim Ohki
Summary: During second year, Harry discovers what the Founder's truly were and how they built Hogwarts. Expanded summary and warnings within. Super!Harry, futureH/Multi, Thump!Whump!Bash!Weasleys. WIP, Slowish Updates
1. Notes and Disclaimer

This is a general disclaimer/author's notes page and can be skipped. The choice is yours . . .

Disclaimer: I make no claims at ownership of any copyrighted characters, places or events used herein. The only thing I make a claim to is this fic, which originated in my head and any original characters created by me herein. The following was made for public consumption at zero profit, and is not for sale except to the owning companies. Yes, I dream big.

Expanded Summary: AU Second Year; Harry, believing to have lost the few friends he had due to the Heir of Slytherin business after Hermione became petrified set about wandering the Castle only to find himself on the Seventh Floor outside a tapestry featuring dancing trolls while thinking about the Founders . . .

Keywords: Angst, Atlantean/Alteran Founders, Super!Harry, Standard Whump/Thump/Bash Warnings, Possible Multipairing (Later in story obviously)

Notes/notices: This particular piece is _**not**_a priority on my Rota of fics to write, meaning this one is set to be the muse-tickler to keep the juices flowing as it were. Expect slow/long updates.

Why I wrote this: This plot device came to me during random discussions on HPFANFICARCHIVE. I've looked at the genre and found that nobody has ever tried this style before. JKR didn't give a whole lot of background on the Founders so the brainwave about them being Descended Alterans came into play. I've yet to decide on Moros/Merlin and if he'd had crossed paths with the Four but I'm leaning more towards no. A large part of the plot vehicle was the thought of Hogwarts being sentient like Atlantis, again something that nobody has ever done before. Now then, to appease readers, I've limited the Castle's actual construction so that there are no drones nor is the structure mobile. As I started the back-story, several other relevant plot ideas appeared and I've incorporated them as well as I can with what I have. This exercise of mine will hopefully get the creative juices flowing.

Since I've made mention of the Alterans as a whole (and the Stargate itself) eventually this will venture into SG-1/SG-A territory but, due to timelines, not until after the Wizard War. One thing that has started to bother me about this type of crossover is that just about everybody has Harry leave the Magical World early, become a Goa'uld, or just plain run away like a coward. So, except for a select few characters that'll either be dead or be left out due to being Uber-Traditional, the Potter-verse cast will be around as a whole.

By the way DarkKing666, I'll see your Soul Ward and raise actually using it.


	2. Part One

Disclaimer: I make no claims at ownership of any copyrighted characters, places or events used herein. The only thing I make a claim to is this fic, which originated in my head and any original characters created by me herein. The following was made for public consumption at zero profit, and is not for sale except to the owning companies. Yes, I dream big.

Left Behind Part One

By: (Driver) Jim Ohki

_**The back-story:**_

_In the year nine twenty, four of the Alteran people descended –on orders and with the blessings of the Others- from the plane of existence that their race had called home for millennia. These four had been watching the children of their people as tales of their origins faded into legend and were eventually lost to time, opening the door for corruption to take hold in their minds. The Children of Altera began to dream of using their powers, dubbed 'Magic' centuries previous as many of the original teachings were also lost, to conquer and enslave not only their own kind but those that hadn't been 'Touched' upon the Alteran's return from Atlantis._

_The collective People had long since set down a rule about "Not interfering in the growth of a younger race", however what their children's many times over children were doing threatened them in a way they had experienced only once before: when the religious sect broke off from them and became the Ori. If the Children ever figured out Ascension to their plane they could conceivably open the way for their long lost brethren to enter the Milky Way which could lead to the destruction of all._

_That situation, hypothetical as it was, was not acceptable in the least._

_For the first time since Atlantis itself had left Terra, the People consented to four volunteers –that, after much debate and consideration were deemed trustworthy enough- returning to their last Home-world and try to correct the path their Children were on._

_These four studied everything they could from the political climate of Britannia and Eurasia to what passed for 'acceptable teachings' from the Church to the everyday life of the populace be they Royalty or Commoner. They learned the naming customs of the time and selected identifiers that were, for the locals, just the other side of outlandish._

_One of the men -of considerable height for the timeframe of human civilization- chose the name Godric Gryffindor. He towered over almost all right at two meters –six foot six inches- with hair the color of obsidian and piercing green eyes._

_The other man, nearly as tall as his compatriot, elected to be called Salazar Slytherin. He was only a tenth of a meter shorter –six foot three inches- and chose to have dark as midnight hair and eyes._

_The first of two women –which was a rare endeavor in the world as it stood- decided on Rowena Ravenclaw as her name. Her hair was brunette, cascading down her back midway to her backside in waves while her eyes were the color of rich chocolate. Deciding to blend in a little better than her male companions she was one point six meters –five foot two (and a half!) inches- tall and had a curvy –not plump, more akin to busty- figure._

_The other woman, last of the four, had a bit of a hard time in choosing her name. Eventually she decided on Helga Hufflepuff, with her sun-kissed blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. While her figure was comparable to Rowena's, her height was between the brunette and Salazar at one point eight meters –five foot nine inches._

_The four were allowed to descend with their memories and minds untouched, with restrictions naturally. They could only use their knowledge, and powers, in guiding their wayward Children back onto the path of least violence. They could also build, using the same techniques that gave birth to Atlantis –even without the star-drive or hyper-drive let alone the weapons-, a bastion to educate the young; a place where tolerance was held in higher esteem than power. There were many things they couldn't do, even knowing the consequences of failure such as telling the Children of their true origins nor teaching of Ascension._

_The school, Hogwarts, opened in nine forty after twenty years of construction and resource gathering. While it had the appearance of a castle of the time it was anything but. The four, in as inconspicuous a manner as they could, did build in Transporters and energy-based weapons that were standard on satellites for defense. They had thought to include an anti-gravity/repulsor engine in the event that the school ever needed to relocate but were warned off by the Others. They were also well aware that their time was limited and would eventually be recalled to the Higher Plane._

_What they, nor the People, never factored in was that by being in a human body they felt emotions again. It came as a shock to the People when Godric/Rowena and Salazar/Helga had their first children, true born Alterans, in the year nine fifty-one. The four continued to have children, each birth spaced appropriately for the time they were operating in. By the time nine seventy-two rolled around the first ones were entering school, their younger siblings would be arriving in five years and their parents were providing even younger siblings yet. Each birth was always fraternal twins, one boy and one girl._

_The People finally put their foot down at three children for each name, knowing that anymore and the system they were having success building wouldn't stand up to people with higher powers than their own. Many of the Others were looking into the future to see what would happen with True Children running amok; what they found was heartbreak._

_The eldest Ravenclaw daughter would be killed in a few years –at the tender age of seventeen- by the eldest Slytherin son who would eventually commit suicide in his grief. The second Slytherin would go mad after his wife and unborn son were killed by the Mundane humans five years after his older brother's death and eventually fall to his father after ruining the name Slytherin. The third, ashamed at his brother's behavior, would change his family name to Gaunt. While he would honor his father he wanted much of nothing to do with the legacy his brothers were leaving behind._

_The second Ravenclaw daughter wouldn't enter Magical Society for her powers would never manifest. She would eventually make her way in the Mundane world, starting a line that would eventually be known as Evans while an offshoot from her second daughter would become Granger. The third daughter, never knowing much of her elder sisters, would spend her life in the Castle of Hogwarts and never know love._

_The daughters of Helga, the two eldest having daughters beforehand –the younger being the first Lovegood-, would be betrayed by a Frenchman by the name of Malfoi during one of his power-play's in an effort to get a foot into the Isles. In return for his betrayal he, and in conjunction his line, would be cursed by the three as they died to forever take on characteristics of their most hated –and feared, after a bad encounter- Creature: Veela. _

_The sons of Godric would lead the best life out of all of the children. The eldest would make a name for himself in the Court and the Battlefield before settling down with a daughter of the Peverell family. He would also change his name to Potter to avoid his enemies. The second would fall in battle near the end of his service while the third would follow his eldest brother in changing his name after marriage to become the first Longbottom._

_The People didn't look any further, believing that the Children of the Four wouldn't be around long enough to cause too many problems for the rest of the world. This shortsightedness had the potential to come back to haunt them, especially as the eldest granddaughter of Helga married into the Potter line shortly before a great-granddaughter of Salazar. The descendant of the second Ravenclaw daughter would eventually join said line, giving birth to an Heir of the Four._

_The Magical Society had stabilized by nine ninety and were no longer on the path to total destruction of everything the Alteran's were trying to accomplish. In the year ten oh-three the Founders of Hogwarts were recalled._

_They watched as life continued for Earth; the Society that could have destroyed them instead found itself in danger from their Mundane neighbors. It would take almost another six hundred years –various uprisings, changes in who Ruled, changes in belief and whatnot- before the Magicals went into complete isolation. For a time, They even stopped paying any attention to the goings on for the rest of Earth._

_Then the People got a rather nasty surprise in nineteen twenty-seven when Tom Marvolo Riddle was born, one year to the day before the Stargate would be found in Giza. His birth was very unwelcome for while his mother's line had long since forgotten their origins the infusion of fresh DNA created –against all odds and logic- the first partial-Ascended at birth in history. He had almost total control of his powers from the age of five and a very keen mind that could process information almost as fast as the AI on Atlantis. He knew, deep down, that it was supposed to be those with the Power that ruled._

_In late nineteen forty-three he did something that alarmed the People. While in the halls of Hogwarts, which fortunately didn't recognize him as an Heir due to the lack of the other Heirs being present, he discovered a bastardized version of Ascension: he committed his first murder and split his soul. From the death of Myrtle he not only made a most vile device that kept his soul on the Mortal Plane; for the briefest of moments –more than enough to enter the communal mind- he connected to the People._

_The Ori, on the other side of the cosmos, felt the incursion but were baffled by the presence they could detect. It was far more . . . twisted than any Ascended before him; even Anubis didn't have a vibe quite like this which caused them to stay their hand._

_It took but a thought for the communal mind of the Others to push young Riddle out; however by the time they'd had the thought he'd gleaned enough knowledge to either "rediscover" old magic or "create" something new. All of that from their understanding of the energies of the Cosmos and how to manipulate them to their own desires._

_Shortly after graduating in nineteen forty-five Riddle seemingly dropped off the face of the universe for not even the People could see what he was doing. It didn't take long for them to understand that his incursion the year before had born more fruit than they'd suspected; they knew of many ways to hide from the Higher Plane and, as such, so did he._

_Twenty-five years passed, and the People watched as the Society they'd thought they'd saved crumbled; it had been in a steady decline for centuries but then that decline suddenly accelerated. In the Earth year nineteen seventy Tom Riddle crawled out of whichever place he'd been hiding; within a year three thousand of the Children were dead. Five years saw that figure climb to near ten thousand. Everything the People had sought to save looked to be on the edge of the Abyss._

_Then surprise number two –a much better one in their opinion- appeared July thirty-first of nineteen eighty in the form of Harry James Potter. When he was born the People for the first time in a few million years give or take were stunned silent. The babe shone like a beacon in the Abyss; when the People traced his lineage they were filled with joy –and not a little trepidation- at the fact that a Child of the Four had been born almost a thousand years after their recall. Young Potter was also brought into the world of the living as a partial-Ascended; however where Riddle had been just a glance out of the corner of the eye Harry was staring at the spot for a hour or two in concentration._

_Even while his parents went into hiding, Harry's mind and powers grew at an exponential rate never before seen. By the age of one he, even while unable to formulate words into modern sentence structure, had full control over his power. Lily and James were speechless at the fact that unless they warded an area/room into a Null Zone Harry would and more often than not did whatever he wanted. One day in August of eighty-one young Harry was mad at his father for being stuck in the playpen and promptly changed the man into a Smurf, complete with squeaky voice._

_Sirius Black thought it was hilarious until Harry changed his godfather into Smurfette. Remus Lupin demonstrated why he was the brains behind the Marauders when he fled the house after one of his rare visits. Peter Pettigrew had learned long before hand to avoid Harry for whenever the two were within range there was usually copious amounts of fire, projectile vomit or even the ultra-gross freshly filled nappy being Banished from babe to rat-man . . . in the face to boot. Right nasty things would go down between the two and nobody else could figure out why Harry acted the way he did to Peter._

_The People watched from on high as time continued then found reason to collectively 'hold their breath' on October thirty-first of nineteen eighty-one._

_Tom Marvolo Riddle, under the silly moniker of Lord Voldemort, met Harry James Potter for the first time. Observing the parents of the toddler protecting him from a Child from one of their own, far outclassed due to the knowledge he had and his understanding of it, they came to a consensus in Ascending them as they had their lives unfairly cut short. Others were well aware that this was setting a precedent in that those deemed worthy enough would be Ascended –not a subject taken lightly after the debacle that was Anubis- and were not happy with it._

_While having their mental debate –after Ascending James Potter- they watched as Lily did something even they feared to do._

_She set a protection on her son that would guarantee the People couldn't assist in Ascending her for her very essence would be damaged beyond repair if not outright destroyed. The one known as Albus Dumbledore had assumed that Lily made a Blood Ward; his error was that he _assumed._ Knowing that the only protection strong enough from her research of Old Magic would require her to sacrifice her very soul she set a Soul Ward in place moments before Voldemort entered the room._

_After their banter –which in reality was Riddle being himself and taunting an opponent into doing what he wanted- he inadvertently finished what the young mother had started when he killed her._

_The People, once again finding themselves stunned –and not overly liking the feeling-, watched as young Harry uttered not a peep in the face of Death; he didn't understand exactly what was going on but from the way 'Mama' wasn't moving he instinctively knew she was gone._

_Riddle thought it'd be easy to kill a toddler. He was sadly mistaken for when the lad's eyebrows furrowed he was suddenly on the defensive from a veritable rainbow of magic being sent in his direction. Old, New, Lost, Undiscovered, Alteran it mattered not for young Harry was angry and was going to make his displeasure known._

_Then he spied Peter peeking into the room._

_That distraction was all that Voldemort needed to _finally_ get off an _Avada Kedavra_._

_The Universe, for the briefest amount of time, seemed to shake when the death curse hit Harry in the head above his right eye._

_The Alterans, their long separated brethren Ori along with their 'arm' the Priors, the Asgard, the Nox, the Wraith; each race in tune with the energies of all or had the ability to measure it blinked owlishly in surprise that such an event could happen even if they couldn't pinpoint the origin of it._

_The People were temporarily blinded to the goings on in Godric's Hollow as the Soul Ward combined with the tap Harry had with the Ascended Plane flooded the area with power. When they could see again they were shocked –a feeling that they were having to quickly become accustomed to after so many millennia without._

_The cottage was heavily damaged; the entire roof was vaporized along with the two walls on the second floor that represented the corner were Harry's room was. Other debris were raining down on the hamlet even as Peter Pettigrew fled into the night with his Master's wand. They could see what was left of Voldemort's Soul being flung onto the continent while silently screaming in agony._

_Harry himself was barely conscious from the insane amount of energy in its raw, unshaped form pouring through his system. The side effects of this event were a loss of control as the channels had been forcibly expanded to a depleted reserve as his core-size tripled and his link to the Higher Plane was disrupted by the Killing Curse._

_Time continued on, even as the Ascended known as James Potter wept for the loss of his wife. The entire Plane was now paying attention to young Harry as first Sirius then Hagrid arrived at the cottage. When the name Albus Dumbledore entered the conversation they decided to go have a look into his mind to see what he would do with a True Child._

_The Headmaster of their last attempt to save their Children was a good man that had lost his way, being mired too much within the political swamp of corruption both at home and the International arena. That corruption had worked its way into Dumbledore's modus operandi and because of how revered he was nobody would call him out on it._

_The first thing he did when Hagrid arrived at Hogwarts was have the Matron Pomfrey do a full evaluation of young Harry. The poor woman nearly fell down on more than one occasion as the damage from the overload was uncovered. Her scans of the Scar oddly came back as inconclusive, and even everything Dumbledore threw at it said the same thing._

_The energy that had flowed through his system prevented Harry from becoming a Horcrux. What the pair were reading was the Higher Plane itself –interspersed with the remnant of Lily Potter's soul- which got the attention of the People for it should've been physically impossible for a Magic user to detect them._

_Then Albus Dumbledore made the second greatest mistake of his rather long life: he, in conference with Poppy, applied Bindings to Harry's magic system –core, conduits, the whole thing. It was meant to be for healing purposes only so that the patient couldn't use magic -unless they really forced it- to allow the pathways time to stabilize and strengthen. By no means was this a long term fix; these particular Bindings were to be removed after no longer than six months._

_Seeing as Harry wouldn't be displaying any magic unless rather bothered, Dumbledore decided that the sister of Lily Potter was the best place for the boy to go to grow. He'd make certain to leave notice with Petunia –he already knew where she was as a precaution incase of just this event which claimed the life of James and Lily- that he was 'normal as can be' under the circumstances and should be treated like family._

_The People watched as the Headmaster left the school to go to Little Whinging to construct the Blood Wards he was fairly certain Lily had used to protect Harry. In the back of his mind he shuddered at the thought of a Soul Ward being employed but dismissed it as fiction for the setup of those Wards was lost to time. Putting the Blood Wards up took most of the night into the early morning hours of November first._

_That night, twenty-four hours after his parents died, young Harry was dropped off on the front step of the Dursley residence along with the letter from Dumbledore explaining everything he felt they needed to know._

_Nobody from the Magical Society bar Arabella Figg would have an idea as to the true conditions in which Harry Potter grew up in for the next decade._

_It took a surprising amount of power to keep James Potter on the Ascended Plane for he was frothing rather badly at the mouth at the way in which his son was treated. The Four that were the Founders had taken the younger being under wing, teaching him many things even though he could never use them on the Mortal Plane. They too were aggravated at the way their descendant was being raised but they, unlike James, understood the Rules of Noninterference._

_Eleven and a half years passed rather quickly._

_**April 26, 1993; Hogwarts; Seventh Floor near Gryffindor Tower**_

Harry Potter was in the upper floors of the Castle three days after Hermione had been petrified by Slytherin's Beast. Now, more than ever, he felt alone for one friend was in the Hospital Wing and the other . . .

Ron Weasley had begun to believe the rumors about Harry being the Heir, no matter what he said or did. Having decided to leave the ginger alone to cool off and maybe –just maybe for once in the almost two years he'd known the youngest Weasley boy- he'd apply his brain before his mouth. Of course, by the time that might happen the damage would already be done. Even the timid Neville Longbottom had been starting to avoid Harry for if Ron wanted nothing to do with him . . . the whole situation was just frustrating.

There were many in the school that had at first been believing of those rumors; after his best female friend had been found near the Library with Penelope Clearwater and most having seen him down near the Quidditch Pitch at the time had changed their minds. Just as many, however, that had either been on the fence about the issue or in Harry's camp –such as Ron- had gone the other way. Some of those got a laugh out of the second youngest Weasley shunning the Boy-Who-Lived; others that took the time to look could see how lost, vulnerable and angry Potter was at the situation.

Not for the first time in his life, he retreated when the going got really tough. This was a nasty ingrained habit by his relatives; alongside never having much contact with anybody his own age thanks to the efforts of Dudley made making friends difficult at best.

None of that mattered at the moment as his mind was occupied with the fact that Hermione –and Penelope, not that he'd had much contact with the Ravenclaw Prefect- with her amazing intellect and bossy attitude was for all intents and purposes a statue on a bed. He was completely lost without her to the point he had no idea what to do next; if he should even bother doing anything at all or if he did where to begin.

'_What I need is information on the Founders as a whole_,' he thought, '_because this is supposed to be Slytherin's Monster or whatever. There's got to be _something_ on either him or the Four as a group _somewhere._ But where?_' His wandering came to a halt before he started pacing the hallway he was in, seeing a tapestry out of the corner of his eye of some fool trying to teach trolls how to dance ballet.

'_Information . . . Founders . . . I need information on the Founders_,' repeated like a mantra in his mind. His musings were interrupted by the sound of stone grinding on stone, making his head jerk to the wall opposite the rather odd tapestry. A door that hadn't been there before pushed its way out of the stonework, earning a raised eyebrow in response before he shrugged and decided to explore the new room if for no other reason than to break the monotony.

It was a split second decision by the five watching from the Higher Plane, knowing that the Others might very well object however something had to be done to help the child and if at all possible correct the course Tom Riddle had sent their Children on.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by the strangest scene to date for there were five glowing beings in the otherwise bare room. It was difficult at first to see their faces for the light their formless bodies were producing but once his eyes adjusted he nearly fainted from shock.

Imagery from the late-tenth early-eleventh century was very hard to come by due to the Dark Ages in which many drawings, paintings and the like were lost. However, that was outside of the Castle for inside a few statues had survived the time since the Founders. It took Harry's mind a few minutes to realize that yes, he was looking at those very Founders themselves.

The fifth being's face became visible and young Potter nearly lost all emotional control he had. Everybody, especially Snape, had always gone on and on about how he was a clone of his father. Now it appeared that, however the method for whatever reason, said father was back from the beyond.

"Easy there lad," came from the face of Gryffindor, even as his ethereal body settled onto the floor. His companions did the same, looking for the world like they were having a seat so that they could talk to the child in front of them.

"Da?" was the only thing Harry could force out of his constricted throat as his eyes watered. He did notice that his mother was nowhere to be seen and a part of his mind wondered just where she was.

"Hello Harry," James Potter wanted nothing more at that point in time than to be able to hug his son after so long.

The People watched the reunion of father and son; one of the few they'd allowed in just about as many years as they'd been Ascended. While they may have shed their emotions by moving onto the Higher Plane even they knew that the young man needed a break of some kind for they too had seen his life up to that point. It was unspoken that their hopes for their descendants were pinned on this child that hadn't even reached his teens.

For the first time since Tom Riddle met Harry Potter their breath was collectively held for they had no idea what would happen if a partial-Ascended came into contact with one of their own let alone the one that had been his father in life. They didn't need to wait long as Harry tried to hug his father to release his bottled up emotions.

When father and son touched, their minds connected. Harry became aware of everything his father had done in life and most of the afterlife having bled through in surprise. He had already known that the Four in the room were the Founders but seeing what his father had been taught by them cemented the idea. The connection didn't last long before he turned on the one that had been called Slytherin on the Mortal Plane.

"You imbecile!" he thundered, arms waving in aggravation and surprising the others with his outburst. "What the bloody devil was your bollixed mind thinking leaving some sort of beast under the school? I'd heard that you were mad but this takes the cake, eats it then shits it right back out!"

"Oh damn it . . ." Salazar face-palmed, head shaking side to side in denial. "That bloody boy of mine! I _knew_ I should've paid more attention to what he was doing when his older brother died!"

"Wait, what?" Harry was now lost, arms frozen in mid-gyration making him look rather silly.

"Ah, the impetuousness of youth strikes again," Godric was trying to sound sage-like which fell flat; he gave it up as a bad job. "I am more than aware that there's very little accessible information on us in these times but surely you had _some_ idea as to our character did you not?"

"No I didn't," Harry admitted, "which is why I was pacing around trying to think of where I could get that information when a door appeared in the wall. Oh, and don't call me Shirley."

"Oh, a joker are you?" Helga leaned in, almost coming in nose to nose with the preteen. Her stare would make the _Imperious Hermione_ look appear tame in comparison.

"Uh . . .," damn it all the one time he tries to be funny!

That broke the look as Helga began laughing along with the others in the room. It was something that was needed all the way around to relieve some stress and break the ice as it were.

"Right," Salazar got his mirth under control after a few moments, "I am aware of the Chamber under the school. Its original purpose was a command center in case of Mundane attack and it gave us a back door out of the building if we ever needed it. My second son went 'round the twist as you say after his wife and unborn child were killed by Mundane just after graduating from Hogwarts. He went on a rampage, slaughtering all but those he deemed worthy which were Pure-bloods by current vernacular. He had returned here for a time, claiming to be over his rage but instead delved into the Dark. Now, before you get all Light/Dark on me you must understand: the power each of you can use is neither. It is all in the intent of the user, the effects of some that came into being over time can be classified but most are not. Now, when I say Dark I mean Death Magic as a whole; Necromancy, Soul Shredding, Soul Destruction, Impure Resurrection and the like. For five years I made the mistake of leaving him unchecked in the school; in that time he spawned a Basilisk and put it in the Chamber. I finally had to put my foot down after we lost thirteen First Born to his experimentation and feeding of his pet."

"Basilisk . . . instant death if looking into the eyes . . . reflections!" Harry had been talking to himself, verbalizing his thoughts as he went proving that there was intelligence in that shell he showed the rest of the world. "Hmmm . . . Parseltongue . . . not wanting death while wanting death . . . what am I missing?"

James Potter grinned like a loon for that was all Lily right there. Even after everything her wretched sister, husband and son had done to his boy he could still figure out the problem on minimal information.

"And your grades are not spectacular because . . .?" Rowena finally entered the conversation, making Harry jump in surprise because he truthfully had forgotten that they were there.

"That's the other issue, isn't it?" he caught the five off-guard with that question and it showed. "My connection to the Plane being damaged coupled with Dumbledore's Bindings and the Dursley's not wanting me to make anything of myself. Da and I _did_ connect, you know . . ."

"The Others will not like this at all," Godric's voice had become grave.

"The Others shouldn't interfere, in part, due to Tom Riddle still running amok," Harry countered, turning to look at each in the eye. He was aware of the People from his father and the connection they shared. "I'm not sure what it would mean to them but, if as you speculate the Ori –whoever they are- have been paying any attention whatsoever then eventually they'll get a Child of their own. That'd be bad enough if Riddle wasn't still around to make things even worse let alone that Anubis fellow."

He might have just as well punched more than a few Ascended in the proverbial junk before pissing downrange on a few more. If there was one thing they really hated it was having their errors thrown back into their faces; which happened more often than not just before the mass Ascension due to the Galactic Plague.

"Look," he continued after a moment, "I can agree to most of the Noninterference terms as there's not a chance in hell humanity is ready for what's out there. Truthfully, learning what I did from Da is scaring the ever-loving shite out of me but I'll deal with it. But I have my own issues to deal with first: the most immediate is finding and killing that ruddy snake. Eventually I'm going to face-off with Riddle again and I'd like to be at full potential when I do. To do that the Binding's have to go which means a wonderful trip into Pomfrey's lair. Then I'm going to have to really buckle down and _learn_ true energy manipulation much like Tom. It gets even better for I also need to relearn everything I already knew about that subject before an AK was bounced off of my head."

The five beings looked at each other, silently communicating that perhaps this was indeed the best chance to fix the connection to the Higher Plane. They weren't very surprised when the Others made a decision, it was the verdict that caught them off guard.

"_We agree_."

Objectively, what they were doing was interference of the highest order. The only thing that separated Harry from the rest of the humans was his ancestry –which he shared a part of with Riddle, not that he'd know- and the fact that all that they were doing was fixing what had been established before the two met in eighty-one. Everything else from that point on would be all on Harry himself to get done, meaning that he had to do the work himself.

The People could live with that arrangement.

Outside of the Room –a much better identifier since it could be many rooms, even those not truly required by the user at the time- the populace of Hogwarts was heading into the Great Hall for dinner. Word of mouth from the Second Year Gryffindors was that Harry had disappeared just after lunch and missed his afternoon classes. The staff looked especially worried since that behavior from him was unprecedented; the speculation that perhaps the Beast had gotten him was running rampant.

The Headmaster had many things running through his mind while at the Staff Table in his usual chair. With the latest attack on Miss' Granger and Clearwater the Board was getting rather fidgety in regards to safety of the students. The more Elitist/Extremist were beginning to vocalize that it was just a matter of time before whomever was going after the Muggle-born went after either the Half-Bloods or even the Pure-Bloods and that it might be a good idea to close the school for the term.

The part of him that was the educator rebelled at such an idea as would anything that would harm the learning process of his students. The part that was the Headmaster though was in agreement with the Board for unless the attacker was caught and/or one of the children died the reputation of Hogwarts as a whole would be ruined. Then there was the politician side that was warring with the other two, trying to find a way to spin this to appease all sides without having to take what it saw as drastic measures.

Truly there were times when it absolutely sucked to be Albus Dumbledore. The events at Hogwarts over the year –don't even mention the year previous- were proving that statement day in and day out. He knew, in the place in his mind were mutinous thoughts were kept, that he had been stretched entirely too thin doing too many jobs at once. Every time the idea of retirement from either the International or Wizengamot arenas surfaced some disaster or another would reel him back in. The populace as a whole were no help as they constantly put pressure on him to solve their problems for them and then not even thank him for his efforts.

His mind may have been occupied but that didn't stop him from noticing the fact that Hogwarts seemed to come to life for no apparent reason. The ward-scheme, built after the Founders had died for few could operate the built-in defenses to their maximum capacity, stayed intact while what could only be the original scheme became active. Nobody else in the Hall was aware of the changes at first until several suits of armor marched in taking up guard stations at the ends of each table.

Matron Pomfrey came running into the Hall, having been supervising her patients in the Hospital Wing, making a bee-line for the Staff Table and the Headmaster beyond.

"Albus, there's armor moving all over the Castle!" she reported once she was within range so as not to shout. "A dozen set up shop in the Infirmary and I saw several squadrons worth moving all over the place. Some of the animated armor I've never seen before and having been in the Castle for forty years I like to believe I know every piece there is."

"There you are," came the voice of Harry Potter moments before he strode into the Great Hall, flanked by a pair of fierce-looking animated statues. "Madam Pomfrey, I have a rather strange request of you: check my system for Bindings." He looked around, noticing the faces of everybody looking at him before amending his statement. "Please."

Yes, it never pays to be rude to the Healer –especially if she was well aware of her Muggle counterparts and their usage of needles.

There were several factors into the staring that was occurring, first being that Harry had been missing in action for half a day; second being his apparent guard that nobody else had; third being his request that came across as a demand. Of course, Severus Snape couldn't let any supposed (or factual, for that matter) transgression involving the son of his nemesis go.

"Potter, what is the meaning of this?" he demanded without raising his voice, sneer set to maximum. What he didn't count on was the armor at his end of the table punching him in the face in retaliation.

"Odd, I was just thinking of that," Harry looked at the armor askew, like it was a foreign life-form to be studied. "Note to self, give the armor verbal orders until used to their behavior."

Snape leapt back onto his feet, holding his broken nose trying to staunch the blood with his right hand and his wand in his left. The armor didn't take to kindly to the drawn wand and socked the Potions Master in the face again sending him back to the floor. The students and staff watched as Severus Snape was getting his ass handed to him by an animated armor, generating more than a few laughs.

"What do you mean?" Pomfrey sounded lost which any person that had ever been under her care could say was a rare occurrence.

"The Binding's you and Dumbledore put on me in eighty-one," Harry looked at her like she'd lost her marbles.

Said Headmaster sucked in his breath. In the fallout of the demise of Voldemort he'd completely forgotten about that. He'd had Ministries near and far harping on him about Dark Lords and their followers moving about unchecked and that _he_ had to do something about it.

"How do you know about that?" the Matron wondered while waving her wand in intricate patterns from head to toe, forgetting where they were.

"How to answer that . . .," Harry became lost in thought, even as the armor near Snape punched the Potions Master in the face yet again for trying to speak. "Well, hmmm. Err- ah! Okay, the best way to explain this is that what you feared happened to me _didn't_, Dumbledore. That rather barmy idea you discarded? Yes, she did. As to how I know all this . . . the next Great Adventure told me."

The Headmaster looked like he'd been gut-checked. While everybody else was confused by the purposely vague half-answer he felt like a complete tool. _Soul Ward! Damn it Lily, that's some seriously Dark magic! Yet, it seems to have served a much higher purpose if it actually kept Harry alive and prevented him from becoming a Horcrux. Next Great . . .? Somebody from beyond told him . . . ah! Most likely his father . . . but how?_

"Right," Pomfrey sounded like she didn't believe a word that just came out of Harry's mouth. "This might hurt so brace yourself."

Her muttering ended with a sharp jab of her wand. She was amazed that he'd been able to perform magic as he did for the Binding was eleven years beyond removal date. Quite the contrary, if he'd waited even a day longer it would've become permanent which would have really messed with his flows.

To the observers in the Hall, Harry folded forward in pain before somebody turned on a tornado indoors. His magic lashed out uncontrollably, sweeping the dinnerware off of the tables and slamming the doors shut. The pressure from the wind made it impossible to reopen them, causing the students to take shelter under their tables.

Dumbledore swung into action, Banishing everything he could that was loose into the kitchens to prevent injury as a steak knife punched almost clean through the Ravenclaw table. He ducked a fork which embedded itself into the wall behind him after going through his chair.

The armor and statues were surprisingly unaffected, standing stock still and undisturbed by the extreme winds, even if one of the armor lost its helmet to a plate turned guillotine.

As sudden as the two hundred mile an hour winds came they stopped, leaving a deafening silence in its wake that was interrupted by the occasional object hitting the floor.

"Ouch," Harry grunted before the sheer volume of his voice brought the silence to his notice. Taking note of the destruction, scared First Years and whimpering going on around him caused him to speak. "Right, everybody okay?"

"No we are bloody well not!" thundered Draco Malfoy, eyes popping out of his face. "What the hell was that?"

"That, Mister Malfoy," Pomfrey slurred as she wobbled her way back to the Staff Table not noticing blood flowing from a wound on the left side of her head, "was the result of binding a release years . . . oh!"

Harry, being upright and mobile, caught the Matron as she collapsed. Seeing her go down did not help the morale in the Hall as those that were hurt found their voice causing a cacophony of sound that was just as quickly silenced as the students were treated to something new.

He didn't know what he was doing, instead operating on instinct as his magic flared from his right hand before he brought it up to her wound. He willed her healed in front of the student body, even those that had lost their faith in him and within moments she was upright under her own power again. Once Harry was done with her he and Pomfrey moved amongst the masses treating those that needed it.

Between the two they got the others that were physically hurt –nothing short of Potions or a trip to a Mind Healer would help those mentally scarred- taken care of in twenty minutes. Pomfrey turned out to be the worst injury, which was a relief to Harry as the destruction of the Great Hall was unintentional.

The Headmaster looked like a fish out of water as young Potter appeared to be everywhere at once, healing his fellow students with unheard of magic. Briefly he turned to look at the fork that had almost taken his head off, still vibrating embedded in the wall.

"Where was I?" Pomfrey started speaking again after the last of the injured were seen to. "Right, Binding's. What you all just witnessed is the result of releasing a Binding after eleven years. Really, I should have done that outside."

Those raised in a Magical Household knew of Binding's, having been threatened with them from time-to-time by angered parents/relatives. To know now that Potter had such a Binding on his magic and that he still ranked in the top ten of his Year really got their attention.

"Now that we're sorted out here," Harry turned to look at Ginny Weasley, whom was looking a little panicky from the fierce glare. "I want the Diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and I want it _now_. I know you have it and have been using it for going on a year."

Dumbledore strode over to the only Weasley girl and looked at her over his half-moon glasses. How did nobody notice the signs of possession? Even now, pierced under his gaze she appeared to be fighting the urge to flee. Using Harry as a distraction, even if she tensed in preparation for flight, he waved his wand in various patterns breaking a Compulsion Charm on her. Once the charm shattered she quickly reached into her ever-present bag and literally threw the book at the one that demanded it.

"Such a naughty boy Tom," Harry wagged his right index finger at the book after it flopped open on the floor. "Right, let's see what we have here."

The population of Hogwarts that had been in the Great Hall watched as his left arm disappeared into the pages. His tongue poked out the right side of his mouth as he rummaged around, searching for something before giving a mighty "Ah-ha!"

As he drew his arm out, a specter of a teenage boy dressed in Slytherin robes followed being pulled by his hair. The apparition looked confused as to how it was drawn out of the diary, taking in the audience that bore witness to the goings-on.

"Tom, hello; hello, Tom!" Harry greeted the less-than-a-ghost jovially, like an old friend reconnecting with another. Then his visage darkened, before dropping the bomb on the population. "Or should I say, hello Voldemort? I can never seem to get it right with you, being that you are a walking contradiction."

"So, you know who I am?" the sixteen year old version of the Dark Lord settled in for a conversation, wondering which tactic to use to control information.

"From the top, shall we?" Harry countered, conjuring a burgundy colored overstuffed armchair with the wave of his right hand before sitting down. This casual display was lost on nobody for the intimidation factor it was. "You are Tom Marvolo Riddle, born to Merope Gaunt –witch- and Tom Riddle –Muggle- in June of nineteen twenty-seven. Your mother was the descendant of the third son of Salazar Slytherin, who had changed his name due to the shame his elder brothers brought to the name. You entered Hogwarts in thirty-eight as an unknown, having no clue as to your heritage. Sorted into Slytherin, you at first were nothing more than a toady to those with the influence."

Many of the current members of said House looked put off for the beginnings of the Dark Lord was not glamorous at all.

"One of your better qualities is your ability to research the obscure," Harry had continued, even as the Serpents went introspective. "By forty-two you knew who your father was, thanks in part to the Muggle Orphanage you grew up in, in London. Being able to search for him only in the summers, it took you until forty-four to actually find him as Muggle Britain was still embroiled in war on the continent. It was the information and travel restrictions that slowed you down, nothing more. The term of forty-three you –yes, you; not Hagrid- let loose a Basilisk that killed Myrtle. If there was one thing you knew before arriving at Hogwarts was that you could talk to snakes. Between that and the fact that Magical Records weren't lost/locked away during the War led you to your mother's identity easily. I digress; over the Holidays of forty-four you traveled to Little Hangleton, where your father lived. It was no matter to you to kill three Mundane was it, Tom?"

"You dare speak to me like you know me?" Riddle hissed, almost dipping into the snake language.

"Considering I know most, if not all, of your darkest secrets; yes," was the nonchalant answer before the history lesson continued. "You see, this wonderful diary of yours is . . . well, _was_ a Horcrux. I met the rest of you last year, and you look horrible; I think if Filch farted in the right direction he could end you which is saying something. However, you have been a naughty boy Tom. The Others are most displeased with you." By the expression on the handsome if slightly out-of-focus face the fragment was feeling fear. "Oh yes, _they_ are not at all happy with what you've done. They have . . . _requested_, that I find a way to end you permanently. So then Mister Flight from Death, enjoy your stay in the Adventure." Not a complete truth or lie; it was verbal middle ground.

With that Harry stood, vanishing his chair before he began speaking in Latin as he waved his wand -that had appeared from nowhere- over the Diary that ended at the same time as his words with a jab at the floor.

"_Abeo absconditus, acerbus animus. Ignoro Excessum, furor; exsequor exequor tui exsilium infra." (Depart from life hidden, foolish soul. To be ignorant of Death, madness; follow to the end your exile in the underworld.)_

The piece of Riddle's soul didn't even have time to roar with rage as it, and the Diary it was attached to, vanished with a muffled _POP_ of displaced air. Ginny Weasley started crying tears of relief, being completely free of the nastiness that was the old book. That was until she looked into the eyes of her crush and was in turn crushed.

"You are by and far the most foolish person I have ever met," he growled, eyes narrowed into slits. "Even being raised in the Mundane world _I_ know better than to write in a book that writes back without knowing the magic behind it! But _no~_, you had to leave your brain at Flourish and Blotts, if there was anything in that cranium to begin with! You just stay away from me," he turned his attention to a frozen Dumbledore, who was still digesting the information he'd learned. "I have a Basilisk to hunt, be right back."

With that Harry Potter and his escort, the pair of fierce animated statues left a completely silent Great Hall. The silence didn't last long as his voice drifted in through the doors as they closed.

"_Hogwarts, omnino signum cunctus ianuas intus tui parietis." (Completely seal all doors within your walls.)_

The student population exploded into noise once the doors were sealed, many shouting at Ginny for being stupid enough to use an unknown enchanted diary; one that had somebody else's name on it.

The Weasley Twins were strangely silent, giving their sister a calculating look; it was like they'd never seen her before and were wondering where she came from. They were also conflicted on what, exactly, they should feel after Harry made his displeasure known.

Percy had frozen, not wanting to believe that the youngest of the family was the one causing all of the mayhem.

Ron, for once in his life, was stunned silent. He'd not only thrown a friendship away for no viable reason other than rumor mongering; he'd completely missed that something was wrong with his baby sister.

The second year Hufflepuffs were in conference, as they'd been some of the more vocal anti-Harry crowd and now had to eat their words. The Ravenclaws, at last having proof as to who -a what, in all truth- had been attacking students, were in a fierce conversation in what type of unified front they should present. The entire house was giving the first year Gryffindor the evil eye but beyond that weren't shouting at her like some. The Slytherins were unsurprisingly doing nothing, just calmly sitting at their table for all intents and purposes twiddling their thumbs waiting to be released. They would have their debate in their common room, away from the rest of the school where appropriate -to their way of thinking, at least- words would fly.

_**First Floor Girl's Lavatory**_

"Hello Myrtle," Harry greeted the ghost as he strolled in the door which has unsealed at his approach. Nobody else was aware of it, but when he'd pulled that little piece of Riddle out of his diary he'd inadvertently performed a copy and paste with the shade's memories.

"Hi Harry," her normal shriek was absent for she found herself intrigued for the first time in fifty years. It wasn't every day that a student walked into the girl's loo with animated statue guards, let alone the fierce-looking pair that were invading her space. Her ghostly visage blued as she blushed under the scrutiny he delivered.

"If you've ever wondered who that handsome boy," he began after a few minutes, "that was the last person you saw in life was, I can tell you. I just dealt with a piece of him left in a diary via some right nasty magic. Either way I'm about to go down into the Chamber and make certain the Basilisk knows my displeasure for attacking students."

"I've wanted to know who killed me for fifty years," she swooped down between him and the sink-island. "I'll do whatever you want however I can; please just tell me!" Myrtle looked so sad that there was no way he could deny her demand.

"Tom Riddle," was delivered with no fanfare or delay.

If a ghost could lose their eyes she was making an excellent attempt at it. She tried to sit on the sink behind her but passed through it without noticing. She continued to look up at Harry from inside the basin giving her a headless look. Without warning she surged forward, trying to kiss him which led to a brain-freeze as she took a look inside his skull.

"Right, we'll sort the rest out later," he managed to get out around chattering teeth. Opening his mouth led to the ice-water feeling hitting his gums, making him look like he was puckering up for a kiss that the ghost couldn't possibly deliver. "For now, can you please get out of my head?" How he said that through his lips as they were was a mystery to even himself.

"That's the strangest thing I've ever heard," she blued even further, completely embarrassed by her behavior even while she did as he asked.

Harry paused in perfect stillness, working over the wording before laughing at his unintentional joke. He was delighted to see that the resident of the loo was laughing also, probably for the first time in a long time without somebody else being miserable.

"You are welcome here anytime," she purred at him, earning odd looks from not only Harry but the statues which was saying something. "I mean it; you don't even have to die. I've never met anybody like you."

It took everything he had to not look scared at that, instead turning to the island of sinks and getting to work. Rather than doing something silly like opening the chute that was just for the basilisk he set about destroying the magics that allowed it to function. Once that was done he moved over to the north wall -to the right of the sinks-, where the memory from Riddle showed the human entrance was located.

_§Open, lights~, Slytherin's~ Haven,§_ were the Parseltongue commands, including a password to disarm the magical traps between this door and the Chamber itself. He didn't notice that Myrtle had flinched at hearing the Snake Language again before taking a dive into her U-bend.

The odd trio of a schoolboy and his animated statues made their way down, keeping alert for any physical traps that Riddle might have set. While Harry had the memories that meant nothing in the Magical Society as mind-altering charms were in abundance. The Ravenclaw thing to do would be to set up said traps then _Obliviate_ the memories, thus outsmarting any enemies that may interrogate a prisoner. While many would call it a Slytherin thing, as the cunning it takes to pull it off was a requirement, it also needed the intelligence of forethought; clues that could only be deciphered by the trap-maker had to be left if one went down that path.

Indeed, Harry discovered, Tom Riddle was the quintessential Slytherin but lacked that decisive Ravenclaw touch. The few physical traps he encountered were easily bypassed; all he had to do was follow the trail in the dust. He made a note to not only get rid of those as a precaution in case the Chamber was needed but to also reset the commands/passwords so that Riddle couldn't use this back-door into the school.

Once he and his escort were through the inner doors, his frown deepened for that son of Slytherin had really done a number on the place. Instead of looking like a refuge/command center the entire Chamber appeared as a monument to said son's greatness. The marble snake pillars, reaching to the ceiling some hundred feet above, were silver-plated, which when combined with the green fire of the torch brackets made them appear alive. At the far end was a floor to ceiling statue of Romulus Slytherin, looking like a combination of a monkey and a medusa.

_Oh yes, he even looked mad,_ Harry thought. He speculated that the statue was supposed to be either a regal pose or a symbol of dominance -looking down at the masses at his feet- but beyond that paid it no mind.

"_Imperium Auctoritas; viginti-sex, octoginta-novem, triginta-tres, sexaginta-unus, una, una, una, una. Nos Quattour, magister Hogwarts, agnosco noster Liber."_ his voice echoed within the fabled Chamber of Secrets. _(Command Authority; twenty-six, eighty-nine, sixty-one, one, one, one, one. We Four, the masters of Hogwarts, acknowledge our Child.)_

Harry felt silly after speaking, waiting for something to happen. It wasn't everyday that one discovered that the school one attends did in fact have some of the Mundane science driving it, like computers and a quasi Artificial Intelligence. Then again for how random everything was there had to be something behind things like the moving stairs and the doors that never behaved themselves.

It also gave some form of explanation as to why the Castle seemed to have a life of its own. It was far more than just the magic bleeding off of hormonal teenagers that gave the place the feeling of being alive; that life was already there at construction. What few had noticed, even if they never figured out how it worked, was that the secret passages were far too short for what they did. Stepping behind a tapestry in the Library and winding up on the Sixth Floor without delay was the work of modified Transporters. They were modified to emit no light or sound, instead creating permanent fixed-position two-way wormholes between the stations.

For all intents and purposes, miniature Stargates that stayed within the walls of the Castle.

Not long after speaking the codes that would enable Harry to forever lock Tom Riddle out of the school did several things happen at once. From within the snake-statues more of the fierce man-shaped variety stepped out, now sporting silver plating each carrying halberds. The pole-arms didn't have the traditional convex axe-head, instead they were shaped like a pair of open scissors.

The giant Slytherin statue crumbled as the wall behind it vanished, leaving the hollow that was the Basilisk nest exposed. The tunnel that led to the Forbidden Forest was blocked by a large chunk of the ceiling that had fallen -or Voldemort had intentionally put it there to starve the Basilisk so it would eat the students when set free.

That explained why he'd heard the thing complaining about being so hungry after so long.

The King of Serpents itself was tasting the air, not understanding what had just happened. It knew one of the two-legs was around; one that had a right to be there in the Chamber. The girl -it knew that from the taste in the air- had used it to attack students again, using an old compulsion left over from the last time it was free.

This one . . . oh dear; he's quite upset.

_§You are an abomination,§_ Harry wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. _§I know your his~tory, that you were hatched here by the s~on of S~lytherin. Your only purpose is~ to harm the s~tudents~ in the s~chool above. I do not care if you were compelled to obey, you picked the wrong s~tudent to attack.§_

While he was speaking to the Basilisk his hands -and wand- had not been idle. To prevent instant death from the eyes and fangs should it try to bite him, he'd conjured a muzzle that went just beyond the length of the head. Reinforcing that with more conjuration he wrapped the muzzle in steel bands. Like any other predator, the jaws had massive crushing power but were extremely weak being opened.

Dead center on the top if the reinforced muzzle was an opening just big enough for the blade of a Longsword. A Longsword identified by the last owner.

"_Adeo me, Ferrum vaco Gryffindor!"_ he intoned, empty left hand in the air as his wand was in his right.

The hard part of trying to drive a piece of Goblin-enchanted silver, worked into a sword, into the head of a snake is that the snake will not cooperate if it had been blinded for all intents and purposes. Combined with being unable to open its' jaw to use its' massive tongue to taste the air to find the threat or escape avenue the difficulty rating entered _'Oh God, Oh God we're gonna die!'_ range.

The only ability it had left was ground vibration-location and its' sheer body weight.

Many would ponder why Harry didn't try to pin the Basilisk to the ground. One thing to know about snakes is that they are invertebrates; the only true bones in their bodies are their skulls. The rest is pure muscle; each species has different ways of using that muscle. For an eighteen meter long Basilisk that weighed close to a metric ton simply making use of steel bands to strap it to the ground wasn't nearly enough. With the magic-resistant hide Sticking Charms of any variety were also out since said charms wouldn't take hold.

Harry, however, was ready to join battle with the remnants of an insane Slytherin.

While the Basilisk was thrashing around trying to dislodge the muzzle -which wasn't going anywhere, being strapped behind the skull crest- he had moved into a corner of the hollow. This provided cover for his back without having to look over his shoulder constantly and gave him space to work without having to move.

Another plus was the animated statues, now numbering twenty-two, moving forward to attempt to restrain the massive beast. Since the Basilisk was moving around so much, panicking over its' inability to see -not that it saw much to begin with- or taste the air, it didn't know the statues were there until they attacked with their halberds.

Since it couldn't sense where the attackers were, the Basilisk reared up to minimize damage taken to its' body. This was exactly what Harry wanted for he'd placed a guidance charm on the slot in the top of the muzzle . . . after he'd set the Sword of Gryffindor floating ten meters off of the floor. The charm he'd used was an obscure one that set an object where the user wanted; the object couldn't be moved again unless the charm was canceled.

Just as fast as it elevated its' head in an attempt to save itself the massive snake came crashing back down with a new accessory in its' head.

All that could be seen of the sword was the hilt; it was buried all the way to the ahead-of-its-time cross-guard. The Basilisk couldn't even roar in pain as it didn't due to being unable to open its' jaw.

"Right, bring it with us," Harry directed to the statues once he extracted the sword.

_**Great Hall, 2100; Same day**_

"Blasted piece of shite, work!" it was a sight to behold as the Headmaster railed against the Castle, trying everything he could to get the doors open. He'd already had to make a set of temporary restrooms for the students as dinner was long over, one for each sex.

The students were having a decent time of being stuck, getting a rare chance to socialize outside of classes with the other Houses. Of course that didn't apply to Slytherin and Gryffindor, each avoiding the other so as not to cause problems with an already agitated Headmaster.

The din of quite conversation died off as the sounds of something heavy moving outside of the Great Hall earned more and more attention. The formation march, for it could be nothing else, came closer to the doors before they parted.

Nobody moved.

Harry Potter was back from wherever he went having acquired more of those fierce-looking statues and, carried on their shoulders, the body of the biggest serpent any had even heard of let alone seen.

"Is tha'?" Hagrid was awestruck and giving Harry the look Colin Creevey usually reserved just for him: Hero-Worship.

"Yes, it is," was his response, ignoring the look. "Dead, of course 'cause I'm not _that _stupid. Kept the muzzle on as a precaution; this beast is a thousand years old and so is its' magic. Who knows how long it'll take for the eyes to lose their instant death power? On top of that is the same aged venom sacs; the poison has entered the realm of the highly acidic it's so powerful."

"How did you . . .?" Dumbledore looked extremely worried before the candle lights reflected off of a piece of silver on Harry's person.

"Actually got the thing to commit suicide," he wasn't in the mood to deal with the man at the moment. "Of course, having this should put an end to that Heir of Slytherin shite the masses tried to pawn on me."

The students that were close enough could see the name on the sword; one thought lost to the ages. As word spread that he held the Sword of Gryffindor the previous naysayers felt like complete tools.

Especially the youngest Weasley boy.

Ron felt so ashamed of himself it went beyond the realm of sad. Not only was Harry the farthest thing from the Heir of Slytherin one could get -not that he'd know the truth unless he was told from the source otherwise- but was apparently the Heir or Gryffindor. Such a reversal in mindset, still in turmoil over Ginny and her actions, confused him to no end as to what he should be feeling now.

The Weasley daughter, upon seeing the Basilisk, had her memory come back and wanted to hide somewhere. Her crush, the school . . . . everybody hated her now, for being that silly little girl that wrote in a diary that wasn't hers to begin with. She was responsible for the students in the Hospital Wing; even if she was just an unwilling agent of the Dark Lord.

In another time and place, Ginny would be taken down to the Chamber in June and Harry would save her. In that case, he would be able to see that she was as much a victim of Voldemort as everybody else that year.

"The Goblins will be here in five minutes," Harry was speaking to Dumbledore, "for the carcass. They will sell what they can over time to prevent a market flood; Colin, Justin, Hermione and Penny each get fifteen percent; the Hogwarts coffers get ten and I get the rest. You do what you will with Weasley; I want nothing more to do with her or her brother Ronald."

Social death on the highest scale. Not even Draco Malfoy had gotten the confirmed vote of no-confidence from Harry Potter and that's saying something right there.

"Now then, excuse me," Harry strode out of the Great Hall, his two personal guard falling into step behind him.

A few of the students followed when the doors remained open, sensing freedom at last. Seeing that they could leave there was a flood as the rest of the student body, minus the stunned Ron and Ginny, wondered what Harry was up to.

The Hospital Wing hadn't seen this many of the populace crowded into the place . . . ever, really. The Wing expanded as needed to fit everybody as Harry made a bee-line for Hermione before doing the last thing any expected.

"C'mon, get up!" he thundered, smacking her frozen face.

Just when the student body thought they'd seen it all, this event proved there was still much to learn. They had no idea how he'd done it but he'd cured the petrifaction with a slap.

"Ow!" was the complaint that sealed the events in the strange category.

"How're you feeling?" Harry asked as he moved over to Penelope Clearwater's bed and repeating the process. Madam Pomfrey finally fought her way through the crowd as word spread that Harry could cure those petrified.

"What the devil are you hitting me for?" was the second complaint before the surroundings sunk in to the Ravenclaw Prefect's mind.

"Harry . . . what is going on?" Hermione sounded scared, looking at almost the entire student body looking back at her. The Professors were also making their way through the masses, minus the Headmaster as he was entertaining the Goblins that had arrived.

"In no particular order: found the answers, killed the beast, restored those affected, made a mint from the Goblins, made sure each of you were compensated for being affected . . . just a normal day in the life of Harry Potter," he answered with a grin.

TBC

Right, there we are. Now don't get all excited about seeing the Stargate folks anytime soon. In fact, it'll be 1997 by the timeline before they interact beyond the Ascended. Five years to counter Voldemort before going out to save the galaxy (or two, maybe three) at the wonderful age of seventeen.

Now to focus on my other work. Thank you readers and reviewers!


	3. Part Two

Disclaimer: I make no claims at ownership of any copyrighted characters, places or events used herein. The only thing I make a claim to is this fic, which originated in my head and any original characters created by me herein. The following was made for public consumption at zero profit, and is not for sale except to the owning companies. Yes, I dream big.

_**Special Notes**_: My forum is up and running. Link is in my profile, bold and italicized so that y'all can find it. There's a poll in my Forum for this fic about future pairings.

_**Special Warning**_: There's hints at rape of children in here. Just hints; nothing graphic. This is as a head's up; it's down near the end of the chapter and can be skipped if you want.

Left Behind Part Two

By: (Driver) Jim Ohki

_**0700; April 28, 1993; Gryffindor Common Room**_

"I believe you're being entirely too hard on Ginny," Hermione tried for the umpteenth time, it seemed, to get Harry to see reason.

The school was still in chaos a day and a half after the revelations in the Great Hall. The Weasley in question had been sequestered in an old VIP room somewhere in the Castle by the Headmaster as the mess was sorted out. This was more for her safety than that of the rest of the student body; she had been attacked three different times the day before by mobs and their mentality.

Pomfrey had let the once-petrified patients out of the Hospital Wing at dinner time yesterday, having performed every test she could think of in regards to the sudden reversal of the petrifications. Harry was of no help, simply giving that half-smile of his that melted hearts and saying _'Magic'_ was the cure.

The pair of friends were having the discussion in the squashy chairs near the window, enjoying the spring air that wafted in.

"And you want me to be nice?" he looked at his best friend like she'd grown a second head. He knew there were holes in his justification; what he was doing was an old Potter trait in that they held their ground unless proven wrong. "After what she did to you and the others; you want me to be _nice_ to her?"

"She's as much a victim as I was!" was her exasperated response. "You used that diary too, you know."

"Yes I did," he admitted without hesitation, "and the thing didn't compel me to let loose a ruddy snake the size of a bus on the populace of Hogwarts. No, Tom simply tried to feed me false information which I fell for. I found the book strange from the start, being able to respond to somebody else's writing. You and Ron never saw me do it but I _did_ consult Madam Pince along with Flourish and Blotts about magical diaries; not a legitimate one made worked like Tom's. Me, _MUGGLE-RAISED_, figured that out in about five seconds worth of work. She, _MAGICAL-RAISED_, couldn't do that until it was shoved in her face. Now, could I have chosen a better venue . . . yes, I'll give you that. At the time though, I was _upset_ that you'd been attacked and . . .," he trailed off, turning his head to stare out the window. What he left unsaid she picked up on from her own unfinished sentence the year previous.

Their conversation had been overheard as neither had been aiming to keep it between the other. Various students had to sit back and think for a moment about what they themselves would have done if they'd had the diary to begin with. More than a few shook their heads, knowing that they'd be just as taken with the object as the youngest Weasley.

"Right, let's get to breakfast," Harry said at last, shaking himself out of where his mind had gone.

"What about Ron?" Hermione was surprised that Harry wasn't waiting around for the ginger. She looked around as the entire Common Room went silent, not understanding how her question could cause such an event.

He gave a sigh of frustration, turning to glare at his fellow Gryffindors who'd fallen in line with the _'Heir of Slytherin'_ believers.

"Weasley has decided that I'm a no good Dark Wizard who should have been sorted into Slytherin," he growled, making more than a few back up as his statue-guard materialized from nowhere. "He even went so far as to spread the word that I fought the Hat on where I wanted to be; which I told him confidentially as an attempt to salvage our friendship. If it hadn't been for my meeting Malfoy before coming here I'd probably be down in the Dungeons suffering from the children of Voldemort's followers without truly understanding why. And while suffering this year, if I was even still alive, a good chunk of the students would probably be _dead!_" he roared the last word out before stomping out the portrait hole, leaving an ashamed house behind.

Ron appeared just as Hermione was making to follow, hoping to get a word in otherwise. His hopes were dashed as the brunette showed surprising speed in catching up to the unappreciated savior.

"Get out of my way!" she heard him shout at a cluster of Ravenclaws just outside of the Great Hall, before meeting the mob head-on with his animated statues. It was like watching a train-wreck in slow motion as bodies flew into the air in all directions, those going sideways impacting walls; the others sailing up or down the corridor before she heard, "What's this?"

In the middle of the now downed crowd stood a blond First Year that looked like she'd been roughed up. Her hair was cut unevenly, signifying that either some substance needed to be removed or somebody did it for a laugh. Her robes were in tatters, barely maintaining her modesty. Looking down revealed that she was barefoot . . . and that her feet were bleeding from being dragged across the stone floor.

"Mister Potter!" McGonagall's voice came from a side-corridor heralding the Deputy's arrival. "Just what is going on here?"

"I'd say a bunch of bullying 'Claws," he snarked, glaring at the closest one which turned out to be Sara Fawcett. "I stumbled across them manhandling this young girl here," he waved his right hand in her direction, not only demonstrating who he was talking about but also fixing her clothes, "and being in a right foul mood already from dealing with Lions that have no brains I sorted the lot out. Of course, if they have an issue with that they can take it up with my statues."

A platoon of the fierce animated warriors appeared from behind a tapestry, halberds gleaming in the sunlight streaming in the windows.

The Professor looked stumped as to what she should do, which was a first in anybody's book. She took note that while the young girl's clothes had been fixed her various, minor but various, wounds had not.

"Potter, take her to Pomfrey," she ordered, conjuring a piece of parchment to message Professor Flitwick. "I'll take over here; go relax and find a way to calm down. House meeting after dinner tonight you two," were her parting words to Harry and Hermione. They took either side of the blond and lifting her off of the floor so she wouldn't have to walk on bleeding feet.

Hogwarts as a whole was getting informed of what an angered Harry Potter looked like; it was truly a scary thing to deal with no matter the time of day. When Ron found out about the rage that was waiting for him to show himself he decided on the better part of valor and hid in his dorm when not in classes. Wherever Harry went, Hermione and his pair of statues were with him . . . although he did have to insist that they wait outside the door to the loo. That got aggravating real quick, trying to use the toilet and having hangers-on.

Still, the day was not a complete waste. Harry, connection to the Higher Plane restored, was having greater success understanding the theory portion of the subjects taught. There was a scheduled double Potions after lunch that he wanted nothing to do with, earning more than a few raised eyebrows in the Great Hall during lunch.

"Bollocks," he was getting loud at Hermione again, earning a frown in return, "and dragon dung! No, I've had enough of Batty McGrease and his sniveling sneer!"

Nobody was quite certain which word set off the subject of Harry's ire, but the way the man moved set off mental alarms all over the place.

"Really, Mister Potter," Snape drawled, out of range of the statues that followed the boy around. Even though he was motionless his robes continued to billow impressively. "And, what, pray tell, are you going to do about being in my class?"

"Since you teach about as well as Glitter Gums over there," Harry pointed at Lockhart -who had started the 'I knew it was Weasley and told Harry' bandwagon-, the insult going clean over the self-absorbed man's head, "I'm bringing in a private tutor just for me that won't insult, breathe down the neck, mock, glare, sneer or try to read my mind. Somebody you ought to be familiar with, too. For the first time in my life I'm using my fame to get what I want; Slughorn should be here tomorrow."

Snape sneered severely at the mention of Horace Slughorn, the Potions Master before him that had taught Tom Riddle. The man's name was close, for he was a leach of the worst sort. If it hadn't been for the brand on his arm his old Professor would have tried to induct him into that nonsensical Slug-Club.

"Oh, and how did you get Horace out of retirement?" Dumbledore wadded into the fray, standing to the right and just in front of Snape like a guard dog.

"Well, when I pointed out his error with Riddle to him," Harry shrugged, "then politely pointed out that another of his students caused the death of one of his favorites . . . he feels he owes me. So, I get one-on-one instruction from a true Professor for free. Right now, the only other person I'd even dream of considering to share this boon with is Hermione. Just about everybody else . . . hmmm, dish served cold and all that."

Both Head and Potion Master looked like they had eaten something incredibly sour at the underhanded mention of Snape's activities before and during the previous War. Young Potter had begun to demonstrate knowledge of events that he shouldn't have, and a rebellious streak as wide as England.

Over at the Slytherin table, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were looking at each other with wide eyes. As the confrontation started all other noise had dropped off, allowing the entire Hall to hear every word said. They could see that Harry was pissing off Snape _intentionally_ and then dumping the man on the student body with a smile. Revenge truly worthy of Slytherin indeed.

"Oh, and if you get any ideas of blocking this," Harry's voice had gone hard, "then you've have my withdrawal notice faster than Fawkes flames from place to place."

For the Slytherin students, that was just awe-inspiring. That, right there, was a true demonstration of owning the field as it were. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were miffed about not getting the chance to escape Snape's rage and crappy teaching style. The Gryffindors were strangely silent, showing nothing to the school which was a first. The staff were looking at each other, wondering if Harry had pushed too far.

"Ah . . . right," the Headmaster waffled, looking extremely uncomfortable. "I do wish you could enjoy your childhood Harry . . ." The change of topic was about as subtle as a Nundu let loose from a pocket.

"Bah!" the target of that statement scoffed. "If you'd given me to werewolves under the full moon my childhood would have been an improvement! But no~, let's leave the boy with his _magic hating_ relatives. You, sir, are a complete douche."

"That's quite enough, Mister Potter," McGonagall finally braved the frigid frontier that was the space around the three. Her words died in her throat as Harry waved his hand Banishing his robes and shirt to the table.

It's been said, in crude circles, that girls dig scars. That's true to an extent; a scar here and there add character. Harry, on the other hand, had a back that looked like a crumpled piece of parchment from the crisscrossing ropes of scar tissue. It was difficult to tell where one ended and another began, even near the 'edges' -neck, shoulders, ribs and beltline.

"I don't know Professor," he glared at her over his right shoulder, "does _this_ make it look like enough?"

"No," the answer left her mouth before she could stop herself, even as her right hand came up to her mouth in horror. Then her head turned slowly to her right, eyes acting like targeting reticules as they sought out the Headmaster.

Dumbledore showed his intelligence as he fled quickly, Snape and McGonagall in hot pursuit opening their mouths to begin shouting. The Hall remained silent as Harry let out a sigh of frustration before returning his attire to his person.

"Harry . . .," Hermione whimpered, before getting up as she'd noticed he was getting ready to leave. She knew, deep down, that there were things that were difficult at best to talk about. While she wanted to help -that desire lead to her overbearing nature- she knew that getting him to talk about his home life would be an impossibility outside of vague comments; that is if he even bothered saying anything at all.

"Can I join you?" the First Year Ravenclaw they'd rescued that morning had appeared from nowhere, invading Harry's personal space. "The Wrackspurts have gotten to Professor Snape's mind; I'd like to learn Potions as it should be taught."

While she'd only addressed him, he instinctively turned to share a look with Hermione. The way her face was scrunched up in confusion was just _adorable_ in his opinion; wanting to see more of that face he turned back to the blond. This one hadn't been visible or vocal with that Heir rubbish, so he decided to humor her.

"Sure, so long that you don't bring any Sarlaccs into the classroom," Harry nodded, before turning to walk out of the Great Hall. He noticed that Hermione's face had gone from that cute confused look to a nice setting sun red as she held in her laughter; seems she got the joke.

"On no, I wouldn't dream of it," the blond reassured him, even though her eyes were out of focus like she was looking at something else entirely. "So long that you leave the Womprats in your dormitory."

"So, just who are you?" he had to ask, seeing as she'd yet to introduce herself. This actually surprised her as she'd assumed that her budding and unwanted reputation had preceded her like his scar does for him. The three had begun climbing the Central Staircase, the girls following Harry to wherever he was going. Hermione wasn't about to suffer through Potions without him and the blond apparently had a free afternoon. None of them noticed that the stairs were lining up a direct path to the Seventh Floor; even those that had just swung in the opposite direction.

"Names are relative, aren't they?" she countered, before shrugging. "My parents named me Luna; Luna Lovegood if that's what you're asking."

"Well hello Luna-Luna, I'm Harry-Harry and this is Hermione-Hermione. Unfortunately, we seem to have lost our Jar-Jar also known as Ron-Ron," he quipped, giving her his half-smile at the same time. In all honesty he had no clue where that last name came from though. "Seriously though, it's a pleasure to meet you Luna."

His sense of humor was something new, if the reaction of Hermione -who looked like a fish out of water- was anything to go by. Neither were prepared to deal with the bipolar-esque attitude he was presenting to the world. Then again, the now named Luna wasn't squealing and/or scar-gawking in his presence which earned her many points. He could truthfully care less if the females of the Castle swapped stories about being around him; just so long that they did it where he wouldn't know.

"Where are we?" Hermione spoke up, seeing a blank wall to her left and a strange tapestry featuring trolls to her right. She'd not been paying any attention to where Harry had been leading them; she didn't even know which floor they were on. As she waited for an answer she noted that he had begun pacing in front of the blank wall; on his third pass a door materialized from the stonework that he opened before gesturing them in.

"This is probably the A-One coolest feature of the Castle," his arms swept wide, indicating the entire room. "Three paces outside gives you any room on your mind; sauna, library, laboratory, lavatory, storage, dungeon . . . you name it, it makes it." Apparently a meeting room of sorts was on his mind at the time as an oblong table dominated the middle of the room, surrounded by ten plush leather office chairs.

The pair of girls paused to gawk at him and his weird sense of humor. Deciding to ignore it for now -Hermione made a note to have an in-depth discussion with him about lines that shouldn't be crossed yet, even if she secretly enjoyed this new Harry- they pulled out their seats.

"Before I start," he sat down across from them, "I must say that there are some things that I cannot speak about. If my explanations sound purposely vague that's because they are; I'd rather get that out front then have you feel like I'm lying to you."

The pair across the table nodded to show their agreement, then settled in as he explained events from his point of view just after Hermione had been petrified.

While he didn't go into technical jargon having secrets of the Castle laid out before them was awe-inspiring. The way the secret passages worked explained so much more than the vague _'it's magic'_ answer that the Pure-Bloods would give. That was something else right there, the fact that if those same Pure-Bloods knew their origins they'd die of random brain hemorrhage. Also glossed over, this time because he didn't have the answer, was the fact that humanity as a whole had to be evolving again which led to the "Muggle-born" phenomena. Since nobody had bothered to research it though the answers to that line of questions would have to wait.

They knew he left out bits of the story; he'd not said a peep about what he'd found in the Room the first time. Rather than press him, as much as their inquiring minds wanted to, they decided in whispered conference to learn what they needed to so he'd include them in what he was doing.

When they'd told him that, he'd looked askew at them.

"I don't doubt either of your intelligences," he started, not wanting to sound insulting. "The thing of it is . . . what you'd have to learn is obscure in the extreme. I'll get you what texts I can; you'll not find any books in the Library about the true origins of the Castle, the Founders, or even what we call magic as a whole. As it turns out, thanks in part to the event that opened my eyes, I know now that my family happened to be pack-rats. We have just about one of everything dating back nearly twenty thousand years. Some of it I have to question as to why we have it, but that's for later. The starting point in what to teach you is to unlearn everything you have already learned about energy manipulation."

For the rest of the afternoon, he went through showing them what he knew of wand and wandless magic all the while relearning everything he'd previously lost.

Dinner time turned into a theatre production.

As soon as Harry sauntered in the doors; Hermione on his left, Luna on his right and his ever-present guards flanking them all noise stopped before turning into shouts of aggravation. True to life, Snape had been absolutely horrible to everybody after lunch and the student body was making their displeasure known. Even the Slytherins were getting in on the act, threatening young Potter with bodily harm.

He had enough of that in a quick order as a shockwave emanated from his person, knocking those being loudest over. Then his army of statues arrived to contain the rest of the students as animated armor moved back into their guard positions at the ends of each table.

"That's enough of that," he rumbled, robes billowing even in his perfect stillness which he didn't notice. "Call Directory Assistance and ask to talk to somebody that gives a shite. Yelling at me won't endear me to the rest of you and your chance to leave Batman in his cave. Of course, if you _like_ dark, dank, and unventilated areas that are ripe to explode and kill you please, continue flapping your jaws."

The silence was nice, before the youngest Weasley present ruined it. The way he did left many looking at him like they would a body turned inside-out for he'd not opened his mouth.

"That should be your new motto Ronald: Constant Flatulence!" Hermione made the joke -complete with shouting and arm waving that made several students jolt in surprise- before he could, earning a bark of laughter from him that was quickly smothered. A few wondered why he'd make a noise like that; they couldn't know that he was aware of Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody and his slogan.

"You have no idea," Dean Thomas got out between his snickers, trying to not look at Ron. "This bloke talks more out his arse than his mouth at all times, even when sleeping."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Neville Longbottom got in on the act. "I don't know which are worse: the dry ones or the ones that make me wonder if he should check his drawers. It's bad enough that his allergies make it so we can't open a window at night but add in the smell . . ."

"I had me mam teach me an odor-removal charm," Seamus Finnegan wasn't about to be left out of social murder on Weasley. The dorm-mates of Harry had a meeting in private and were rightly ashamed of themselves for the Heir business. The best way to show, in their opinion, that they were indeed regretful was to unload on the one in their shared room that had been the loudest. "Otherwise me clothes woulda been ruined from the smell; it's bad enough when he leaves one in the door to the loo making us venture into the death zone."

Ron looked like a tomato before talking out his bum again, loud enough that everybody on the bench from end-to-end felt the vibrations.

"It must run in the family," one of the other Gryffindor First Year girls chimed into the death of any social life the youngest Weasley's might have had, "'cause Ginny can clear a room like nobody's business."

"These two are no better," Lee Jordan pointed at the Twins, who were delighted at the attention. Of course, since gas can equate into humor if done right they were smiling and waving at the masses. As if to prove their point they started into an arse-powered rendition of their _Twin-Speak_. It was disturbing to hear one finish what the other had started to be certain. It also proved that while the pair had no qualms mocking themselves something was seriously wrong in their family.

"Somewhere, a fat guy is out farting Michael Moore," Harry groused to himself, before shaking off the bizarre feeling that he shouldn't know that.

Penelope Clearwater had been wandering by when the conversation started. Her movement went into complete stillness as she listened to the group of Gryffindors before seeking out Percy . . . just in time to see him flee without walking. Bad timing on his part to be sure as he looked like he was still sitting in a chair that was ghosting out of the Great Hall which the Twins noticed.

"Check it out," started George.

"Percy's got the-"

"hover-chair fart going-"

"something even we've-"

"never been able to do," they finished together, a look of awe in their eyes. To them, their killjoy brother just zinged them royally; earning more laughter without trying than any prank they'd pulled before.

Then Ginny, under guard from a pair of animated armor appeared, making for the only open seat at the table . . . right next to the Twins. Her social death became complete when she paused near Harry and let one go . . . apparently the wrong way.

"Did you just?" he backed away while every eye around them fell on her person. The expression on her face told him all he needed to know. "You did! You bloody well farted out your . . . ugh, gross!"

Every female around the youngest Weasley looked at her like she'd committed the greatest sin of all while the boys roared with laughter. That laughter died a sudden death when the odor hit them, making those within range look green around the gills.

"What died?" Draco Malfoy, needing his daily dose of Potter insults, walked into the invisible cloud and pulled several muscles in his face from the severity of his scowl. That was before he keeled over in a faint; not that anybody could blame him this time.

"Pomfrey!" Penny, trying to save those she could by use of a breeze charm, yelled up at the Staff Table. As her panic descended using a much simpler _Bubblehead Charm_ completely escaped her notice.

"Kill me now!" Hermione was being overly dramatic, swaying dangerously looking like she'd indulged in a few too many 'shrooms. "I can't breathe! Harry, kiss me!"

"Why can't I go somewhere without massive amounts of chaos?" the subject of her request sighed before waving both arms looking like he was conducting an orchestra. He chalked the mayhem up to what he believed to be a misspoken word on her part.

"She passes hallucinogenics out her . . . orifices?" Pomfrey looked lost -a feeling that she was _really_ beginning to hate-, having turned her attention onto the young Miss Weasley after Harry had dealt with the cloud of death. "What does Molly feed you to accomplish that?"

Harry's attempt at scrubbing the local atmosphere had a side effect as he'd converted most of the odor into helium. The problem was that Ginny was still standing in the middle of the zone, causing the conversion spell to latch onto her lungs. Fortunately it was targeted at methane and carbon monoxide/dioxide and not oxygen, thus allowing her to breathe normally. Exhaling though was another matter all together.

"Mum loves to add mushrooms, jalapeños, olives and when called for guacamole to just about everything . . . oh, and cheese. Can't forget the cheese," was Ginny's response, which had started out in her normal tone before rising in pitch. When she finished she sounded like a squirrel hyped up on caffeine, which was not helped when she added a "Squeak!" to the end of her sentence.

"I hate squirrels!" muttered Ginny's other dorm-mate under her breath, earning herself odd looks from her surrounding Housemates. "I used to think they were cute until one used me as a tree to get away from my dog, okay?"

"Why is she here anyway?" Hermione wasn't trying to be mean; she was just voicing her curiosity.

"I guess the mention of the Weasley Family Motto attracts them like flies," Pansy Parkinson snarked from the Slytherin table. She wasn't foolish enough to go into no-man's land to fawn over Draco, not without an all clear from another dolt dumb enough to freely go in there.

Ron had enough of people poking fun at his family and his sister in particular. How he moved from the other side of the table to stand right behind her nobody quite understood. What they did get was that somehow she was pulled into his front like a magnet before the freckles on her forehead moved of their own volition.

"Now isn't that the truth?" Harry snickered, understanding the joke. Ginny's face was now advertising _"I'm With Stupid"_, earning more laughter around the Hall as word spread of the goings-on.

"Get off!" Ron bellowed at his sister while pushing on her shoulders to no effect. "Blast it! Would you stop touching me? Why are you still touching me?"

"That, right there, is true animal magnetism," Luna pointed at the youngest Weasleys as they started either a strange fight or a mating dance. It was hard to tell, especially with the known fact that the Pure-Bloods enjoy their own relations a bit too much.

"Right," Harry drawled, making certain to grab an entire platter of treacle tart before dessert ended. "We'll see you tomorrow; McGonagall wants us for something."

Not twenty minutes later found every Gryffindor crowded into the Common Room; extra space had been given to the various Weasley's as they tried to stink up the place even with the windows open.

"You two should market that," Hermione had conjured a clothespin for her nose. "What a wonderful smell you've discovered; it makes dung-bombs seem like roses in comparison."

The Twin's eyes lit up at that off-hand remark.

"Shush you," Harry grumbled between bites of treacle, his own nose plugged. "They cause enough mayhem on a daily basis without your super-brain giving them ideas. Besides, they're going to be occupied dealing with Scrotum-Boy and Sphincter-Girl over there."

Where the nicknames for Ron and Ginny came from nobody quite knew; one of the Gryffindors unhappy with the youngest boy and, perhaps, his treatment of young Potter grumbled it a little too loud and was overheard while a Ravenclaw Seventh year had shouted -either in surprise or intentionally- the youngest Weasley's new identifier as they'd filed out of the Great Hall. Both names had stuck . . . in truth, like the pair were stuck to each other.

"Y'know, we could make a song outta that," the Twins turned their heads to regard their younger siblings.

"What, like _'Scrotum-Boy, Scrotum-Boy; does whatever Scrotum-Boy does'_?" Dean wondered as he tried to sneak some of Harry's food which earned him a slapped hand from one of the statue guards.

"I don't fancy being them tomorrow," Katie Bell wandered into the conversation, her eyes locked on the dessert tray that Harry was now guarding with his body. "Hopefully somebody figures out how to unstick them or going to the loo will be a challenge."

"Must you voice that while I'm enjoying my food?" he grunted as he shifted the tray out of her reach.

"Attention please," McGonagall had appeared, before fanning her right hand in front of her nose. "Great Scott! Where's the body?" She noticed that the Weasley's were turning red in the face. "Never mind; hopefully the cause of this will wander into the Hospital Wing tomorrow and let Pomfrey correct the issue." Then her eyes fell on the youngest pair of the red-heads and her lips almost vanished.

"What is the problem now?"

"She won't get off of me!" Ron shouted at his Head of House, earning a furrowed brow to go with the thin lips. The situation was made worse when he punched his sister in the back of the head. She retaliated by bringing her left ankle up behind her as hard as she could kicking him in the junk causing them to fall backwards. He howled in pain before jamming his arms between them trying to push her away with all his might. His exertion combined with the weight on his stomach was just too much for his poor body to handle.

"Seek shelter!" Harry dove behind one of the couches as the two fighters slid across the floor, bouncing off of the walls, furniture and people that didn't heed the warning like a pinball.

"My nose!" Neville collapsed, decidedly green clutching at his face.

"Dear Merlin; somebody do something!" Alicia Spinnet had leapt over the pair hovering off of the floor, bouncing all over the place straight into the vapor cloud. From there it was a prompt vacating of her dinner all over Colin Creevey who, as usual, was clicking away madly with his replacement camera.

Percy, still doing his hover-chair impersonation parked himself in the path of his brother and sister. When they passed below him both were knocked out from his backwash. It was at that time that his own bout ended, sending him face first into Ginny's crotch. The results were predictable as he wound up vomiting from the power of the stench after he'd crushed her stomach.

"That's just wrong on so many levels," McGonagall grumbled to herself before waving her wand at the various messes. Once order had been restored, she set to do what she'd originally entered the Common Room to do. She did take note that all she could see of Harry was the top of his head and his eyes from behind the couch.

"First and foremost, the restrictions imposed due to the previous attacks on students are lifted as of midnight tonight. It has been decided that the only rule change shall be in regards to reporting Dark Objects -this used to be voluntary. It is now _mandatory_ for any suspicious object within the walls of Hogwarts to be brought to the attention of the staff. This includes but is not limited to: Enchanted Diaries, gifts from unknown senders, Invisibility Cloaks, Enchanted Parchment of any type that is not sold to the public so on and so forth."

The Deputy Headmistress could see anger in the eyes of not only Harry but also the Weasley Twins. While she was more than aware of Potter's Cloak, being a Family Heirloom, she had no idea as to why Fred and George would look mutinous.

"Vanishing Cabinets?" said Potter wondered, still behind the couch. He'd found a way to have his treacle in peace in a crowded room: hide it from view.

"Yes, those too-," McGonagall answered before narrowing her eyes at the boy. "Where is there a Vanishing Cabinet?"

"Ask Nick," he replied, "'cause he got Peeves to drop one on the floor above Filch's office. I don't know if the thing has been moved yet or not, let alone if it even still functions after being dropped from the ceiling."

"This example is perfect, thank you Mister Potter," her lips twitched, before her expression returned to stone. "To aid the students in regards to Dark Objects Headmaster Dumbledore will be modifying the Wards during the summer holiday. Of a much more serious note, for the third years and below: how did none of you notice one of our own acting quite odd? I'd encompass the entire House but I know that the older students rarely pay attention to the younger."

"My defense is that she had always acted weird around me," Harry finally moved, revealing an empty dessert tray. "When I visited her house this summer she would blush, squeak, drop things, stick her elbow in a butter dish or flee without so much as a hello. I haven't confirmed it yet but I do believe she's part of that _'Boy-Who-Lived'_ rubbish crowd."

"Ah, say no more," McGonagall appeared satisfied with his explanation and moved on. The other Gryffindors were shifting about nervously, not quite knowing what they should say.

"When we crossed paths in Diagon Alley," Hermione started slowly, trying to remember the encounter, "before the school year she seemed like any eleven year old girl. Once we got here, however, I didn't have much contact with her at all; she was reclusive. For all I know that was because she was homesick, each of us has experienced that at some point. Well, except for Harry that is."

"Hey, you try to be around Walrus, Horse and Pig-in-a-Wig for any length of time; see if you can survive them without turning into a Dark Lord," he retorted without thinking, before finding the dessert tray in hand fascinating.

The Head of Gryffindor paled considerably at those words; she remembered one of her classmates that had grown up in an orphanage and had learned that survival of the fittest was the word of the day. That boy, once he learned of his parentage, went 'round the twist in Sixth Year and became the most vile Magical in centuries.

No, Harry Potter was _not_ returning to that house; Albus 'Greater Good' Dumbledore be damned!

"Since I let that out, I might as well do it properly," Harry groused, finding his courage somewhere. "Yes, my only living relations -that I'm aware of, at least- are Muggles and they despise magic. My Aunt, being the sister to my Mum, tolerates me being in her house just enough to be a free source of labor. Her husband -it feels so good not to claim him as an Uncle!- detests anything . . . well, everything really. Me, the government, me, banks, me, motorcycles, me, magic, me, so on and whatnot. My Cousin, the Pig-in-a-Wig, can't get his jollies any other way than to be an absolute bully to everybody else. Growing up in that environment I could have easily turned into the last thing any Magical in Britain wants: a new Dark Lord more terrible than the last. Instead, I became that spineless wimp the lot of you have seen over the past year and change."

"Spineless?" Hermione scoffed, forgetting about the witnesses around her. "You're _far_ from spineless Harry; indecisive on a large number of subjects yes. Always wanting to be normal and in the background, no doubt ingrained by those oh so loving people; yes. You faced Quirellmort _by yourself_ and came out alive, something that I know for a fact I'd be far too scared to do."

"Moving on," McGonagall put the kibosh on the conversation that had grabbed the attention of the Gryffindors; although she did have an internal laugh at the name Quirellmort. "The rest of you seem to have no answer to my original question. Not even Miss Weasley's roommates are saying anything nor do they appear to have anything to say. So, onto the Prefects: why did none of _you_ notice?"

She moved on after a tense silence as those aforementioned Prefects looked at each other.

"All right, next on the agenda is what punishments should be handed out," earned groans from the rest of the room alongside glares sent to the still unconscious Weasley.

"Yes, that's right," Harry wasn't going to take that lying down. His sarcasm was so thick a _Reducto_ wouldn't damage it. "We all used that Diary and hid Ginger's activities from the Staff so we must be punished. Yep-yep-yep; uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh . . . no, damn it! The rest of the House had nothing to do with the issue at hand and you know it. If you must, then the Flatulent Family and even myself yes because we . . . I dunno, _know_ Short-Stack."

His declaration made those that were on the Heir bandwagon feel even worse for he was asking to take their proverbial bullet. They knew he didn't have the motivation to but did so anyway, which was a true display of his character.

"You've made your case," his Head of House actually looked proud at his actions. "The Headmaster won't hear of expulsion due to Miss Weasley not being in control of herself; he has however asked for _something_ to be done to teach everybody the important lessons." She noticed that his face fell, thinking of the one thing he would have to give up. "Oh no, none of the current team shall lose their spots; I'll not have Severus Snape strutting about the Castle again thank you very much."

"Well," Neville started slowly, trying to put his thoughts to words, "for Ginny I'd say no Hogsmeade, no Prefecture, no Head-Girl, no Quidditch . . . no anything really for the rest of her time here. Beyond being tossed out that's pretty much all that's left."

"Same for Ronald," Alicia jumped in, having thought about it. "Well, obviously it'd be Head-Boy but you get the idea. He's the closest to her in age after all and should have been the first one to notice something. Included in that would be no to student-run clubs for both."

The Twins looked at each other, wondering what they had that they could cough up. From the way Lee was looking at them they knew that if need be they could also give up Hogsmeade and have him be their runner.

"Hogsmeade," they offered at the same time, catching the attention of the rest of the House. "We know we'll never be Prefects or Head-Boy and since you've guaranteed us Quidditch we'll give up Hogsmeade."

"Fair enough," McGonagall would rather die than tell the two to their face that they'd just impressed her. It takes more courage to fall on one's own sword after all. "Percival is hereby stripped of his Prefect status and shall not be eligible for Head-Boy next year."

"Uh . . ." Harry started, only to get the stink eye from those around him.

"You, Mister Potter, have done enough lately," the Professor looked sternly at him. "Not only did you expose the mess you cleaned it up; something that _'Glitter Gums'_ as you call him is beside himself over. It's also something that we adults should have handled, instead relying on a now-Second Year to save the day yet again. Your punishment is simple; we'll just not reward you for your efforts. Call it a break even if you must."

"Good," he breathed a sigh of relief, the words of the Headmaster from the beginning of term bouncing around his mind. "Yes, that's good enough for me."

"Excellent," McGonagall gave a clap, still looking sternly at her Lions. "For the rest of you a warning; in the future do not let another situation like this occur. Now, if you'll excuse me I see a pair of Weasley's that need Pomfrey's touch."

_**Friday, April 30, 1993; 0700; Gryffindor Common Room**_

"Hurray!" Oliver Wood bellowed as he crossed through the portrait hole. "The Heads came into agreement just this morning to have our game tomorrow! Yes!"

The buzz of Quidditch after the mayhem the entire year had suffered was a welcome relief. This was the reason that Snape caved; when the other three Heads of House gang up on anybody they have a tendency to give in real quick. The students needed a break before the May crunch leading into the June testing took effect and the sport was the only true outlet a lot of the populace had.

That, and Oliver hounding said three Heads at God's Hour of the morning work too. He'd never know that he'd even gotten Sprout angry enough to threaten Snape with a now-unneeded Mandrake.

"Good," Harry nodded his head, before heading for the Great Hall and the food that awaited. There was no chance of a practice the day before a game as Madam Hooch had to go over each piece of spherical equipment checking for magic that wasn't supposed to be there. Just doing that to the Snitch took half a day as the bloody thing kept trying to vanish.

"Wait for me," Hermione called, careening down the stairs from the Girls Dorms at a good clip. She was strangely running a bit behind this morning, for reason as yet unknown.

Before the pair could exit the Common Room the portrait opened yet again to the sounds of sibling violence.

"Blast it! Why won't you get off of me?" Ron was in the process of trying to fight Ginny yet again.

"You paid zero attention in the Hospital Wing, didn't you?" his sister snarled, reaching up behind her to try to crush his nose. "We're bloody well stuck like this for the foreseeable future! Merlin, how embarrassing . . . at least I can't see your wee-Ron when you have to go to the loo. And that had better be your wand poking my bum!"

"Perhaps Luna was right," Harry spoke out of the right side of his mouth at Hermione, not wanting to attract the attention of the Ginger's before being well fed and watered.

"Hm," she grunted, also not wanting any attention from the pair. She was still conflicted as to what to feel about Ron; although knowing that he had a habit of running his mouth didn't help his cause.

"Gah, don't remind me!" Ron pulled a disgusted face. "Every bloody time you have to go I have to find a way to not be under you! At least I can stand up to pee!"

"Time to flee," Harry grabbed Hermione's left arm and virtually flew out of the portrait and down the stairs. "Sorry 'bout that, but I _really_ did not want to hear any more of that conversation."

"Well if it isn't Scarface!" Draco Malfoy sounded like a five year old with his insult, but this time Harry was ready with a comeback.

"Ooh, you wanna fuck wit' me, eh? You wanna go to war? Eh? Say 'ello to my lil frien'!"

With that one of the large statues appeared from nowhere and walloped Draco across the top of the head knocking him out. The rest of the Great Hall was in stillness before the roar of laughter drowned out the disgruntled noises from Snape.

"Good one, Harry!" the Twins boomed their approval to be heard for even the Slytherins were having difficulties holding their mirth in.

"Excellent use of a movie reference," Hermione was holding up a card that read _9.5_. "You missed the perfect score by enunciation only, the rest was perfect."

"Well, he did set it up for me," Harry had the grace to appear bashful to which most of the Hall heard as they'd quieted just long enough to hear.

"Bravo!" Luna cheered, her card having the perfect ten on it. "Splendid execution!"

"Ugh, stupid Half-Blood!" Marcus Flint bellowed, waving a fist dramatically.

"Odd; last time I had it checked Pomfrey said my blood was full," Harry retorted, before turning to the Matron. "Is this true? Does my body operate at only half-capacity?"

"What-?" Peregrine Derrick looked as confused as he sounded, the joke going right over his head.

"And the boy named after a bird speaks!" Harry deadpanned, "Seriously, why are you named after a species of falcon? They're supposed to be _smart_ too." Ignoring the spluttering now coming from the Slytherin he turned back to Pomfrey, who was now shaking her head at Malfoy's prone body. "Well? Is my blood capacity only at half or not?"

"Are you kidding?" the Matron wasn't in the mood to deal with children and their mayhem today. "Of course not boy! You'd be in a coma near death if that was the case!"

"There you go Mucus Flinger . . . I mean Marcus Flint," he turned to point at the named boy, giving him a new nickname to boot. "Now, unless there are any other interruptions I'm going to have my breakfast. If anybody that I normally don't talk to wants to bother me, take it up with my statues. Luna, Hermione sit here." He pointed at the open spot at the Gryffindor table.

"Why's Loony sitting here?" the voice of Ron Weasley drifted in the doors as he and his sister -being stuck to his chest she had no choice in the matter as her feet were off the floor- made their appearance.

"Look everybody; Scrotum-Boy and Sphincter-Girl have arrived! All hail!" Hermione got the words out just as Harry was turning to look at one of his statues.

"What?" Ron had no clue what people were calling him now. Ginny, on the other hand, had a brain in her head thus she understood where her name came from.

"If it isn't Harry Plopper!" she tried -rather poorly too at that- to insult Harry, which in turn earned her a nice rebuttal.

"Where's the rest of the Flatulent Family?" he wondered out loud, even as a pair of animated armor appeared to move the stuck together gingers along.

From there, breakfast was boring. That was until Gilderoy Lockhart, now known throughout the Castle as _Glitter Gums_, swung by and issued a detention to Hermione for no reason at all. His behavior was strange, but as Snape was known to do something similar nothing much could be said. Not that the action didn't earn a set of narrowed eyes from Luna and Harry; quite the contrary the pair were now sitting up and taking notice of the odd behavior.

"Keep your wits about you," Harry had leaned over to stare Hermione in the eye from close range. "Something is strange about that idiot; I don't know if he's fishing for his newest book or is doing this as a means to get back at me for the nickname."

"I'll be fine Harry," she resisted the urge to roll her eyes as he was giving her the male version of the _Puppy Dog Eyes_; with his eyes it was a very effective weapon in his arsenal. "You worry far too much; however since I know that you worry because you care let me borrow one of your animated statues."

"Can I get a couple?" Luna looked excited at having her own personal guard lingering about. When he turned his eyes on her she felt like he was reading her mind before his platoon of silver plated marble statues arrived and herded the Ravenclaws out of the Great Hall.

"Yes, you may; even though by the time you get up to your Tower you'll have your stuff back," he pounded the table with a clenched fist. "Bunch of low-life thieves they are; taking your stuff just because you have a different view of the world."

Luna paused briefly before smiling a million candlepower smile; this was what friendship was all about. Hermione looked scandalized at first before her look softened, also giving Harry one of her special smiles.

Still, for all of that, Harry's mind was on Lockhart and just what the man was up to. Even though his connection to the Higher Plane was fixed he couldn't go willy-nilly into people's minds. Some research and discrete questioning of the rest of the student body -along with the Book of Detentions- was in order. Hopefully the bad feeling wouldn't pan out but it if did . . .

The rest of the Great Hall paused when the entire room shook for a moment before going back to their conversations.

_**1930 same Day; Gryffindor Common Room**_

Harry had just finished putting the finishing touches on his homework for the week, which was a good thing as it freed him up to commune with the Castle. It was strange, he reflected, to be mentally talking to an Artificial Intelligence that nobody else knew of.

The entire day had been rather dull; Herbology, Charms and Transfiguration passing without fuss which was a first. He'd earned more than a few shrewd looks for his silent casting; it got downright bizarre when he did that wandless too. The looks had changed to glee for the points he earned, jealousy that nobody else could match his casting, to belief that he was effectively showing off.

A good laugh happened at lunch when Draco Malfoy opened his mouth to fire off his tried and true Scar reference only to pause in thought. This surprised many for it was assumed that the boy didn't have enough brain matter in his head to remember what happened the last time he tried that. Matters weren't hurt by the arrival of Hermione and her statue -this one transfigured into a woman while keeping the fierce look-, which promptly trod on his right foot. His jumping about on one leg, howling in pain was simply classic in the eyes of many.

Dinner had come and gone, which involved a nice get-together with Luna as the three got caught up on their day. Then Hermione had her random detention, which Harry was really uncertain about after his bit of research.

By the Book of Detentions, Gilderoy Lockhart had various girls of varying age at _least_ once a week in his domain for no justifiable reason. None were safe, regardless of House, Year or even Parentage. Harry had taken the time to track a few of the girls down; when they stated that they had no memory of a detention with the DADA Professor he became instantly alert. Directing them, either by persuasion or animated statue (read as: no choice in the matter) to Pomfrey confirmed the worst thoughts going through his mind.

Each girl had been _Obliviated_. Whatever memory had been erased earned a frown; the fact that the Matron turned white then red in rage earned mobilization of the animated warriors in the Castle. Harry wasn't dumb enough to go charging in; thus why he was communing with the AI in Hogwarts.

Not even five minutes into his mental watching of the detention did he bolt for the portrait hole; Lockhart had immobilized Hermione's guard statue before beginning to paw at her robes.

"Youth are so succulent," Lockhart had pinned her in a corner, "so . . . fresh, untainted by the world. You, my dear, earned special attention. No, no; not just because of being friends with Harry Potter. Your intelligence is astounding; the things you could come up with in that mind of yours is so tempting. Now we add in your friendship to the Boy-Who-Lived; oh yes," he took delight at her panicked expression, "that blasted boy who ruined my chance to create a masterpiece! All somebody had to do was die a heroic death, where I could swoop in a claim to do exactly what he did. But _no~_; he not only solved the mystery, he slew the beast _and_ cured those that had been attacked! All where I couldn't take credit for it; all where I couldn't get my glory! Well, he's not going to save you this time . . . oh no, there'll be no heroics rescue of the damsel in distress today. I've been watching you since Halloween; I see the way you look at Mister Potter and since I can't take the glory I'll just take something else that he isn't even aware of! Then, just to make it perfect, I'll erase our little rendezvous from your mind . . . unless you're really good, then I might just find a way to keep you _forever_."

It's been said that never-do-wells talk too much at the wrong time; every level of villainy has the incessant need to gloat and detail their plans _before_ they execute them. This bragging, combined with the natural order of things in which the good guys survive, lead to more information leaks than spies could ever hope to accomplish.

Hermione had heard enough and drew her wand in preparation for a fight; she had great motivation in regards to surviving this encounter completely intact in the literal sense.

Her preparations turned out to be unneeded. Just as Lockhart -she refused to call him a Professor any longer- made to Banish their clothing to who-knows-where the outer door to the DADA classroom turned into so much shrapnel. Both had time to blink owlishly at each other before the same thing happened to the door to the office; there, magic swirling around him was one angry Harry Potter.

That image by itself would, in the future, inspire fear in anybody on the receiving end. Combined with the platoon of animated statues -and the shouting Staff behind them, hoping to stop Harry before he did something entirely rash- he made for a sight to behold.

"You . . . picked the _wrong_ girl to try this on," his voice was flat, eyes narrowed into a glare that put the best from Snape to shame. "You got sloppy Glitter Gums; between the Book of Detentions and the victims themselves there's enough evidence to see you tossed through the Veil . . . that's from this year alone! I would ask if there's a shred of compassion in that body of yours; that would be a wasted effort judging by the eight pregnant girls with no memory of how they got that way." Hermione had taken the distraction for what it was and promptly ran between Harry and his statues. Lockhart was absolutely terrified and was trembling as Albus Dumbledore announced his presence . . . alongside Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Stop him-! Amelia, you grab Gilderoy while I try to distract Harry," the Headmaster was saying, knowing that young Potter's entire focus was on the . . . person in front of him. Calling the soon to be former Professor a man was just asking too much.

"Get me out of here!" Hermione had started crying, a sure-fire way to intensify Harry's anger. She began pulling him towards the remains of the door. "Please, just get me back to the Tower."

"Gilderoy Lockhart, you have five seconds to remove yourself from Hogwarts before the statues do it for you," he snarled as he walked backwards. "And they'll do it by taking your head off of your shoulders!"

The frozen female statue came back to life, grabbing Hermione and frog-marching her out the door freeing Harry. There was no way that he would let her see this.

"Second year in a row I've tangled with a corrupt DADA teacher," he grumbled, watching as Dumbledore and McGonagall Transfigured a giant stone box around the platoon of animated warriors. While they worked Amelia Bones was rushing Lockhart in the direction of the Floo; it was the nearest exit and would ensure the man lived long enough to see justice.

At the mental count of five, just as Madam Bones was tossing Floo powder and calling out her destination the rest of the statues moved. The Professors started casting a wide array of magic, hoping to counter the offensive but as the statues were designed with combat in mind they proved to be nigh on impervious. Madam Bones had turned from the Floo, getting ready to shove Lockhart through when one of the animated guardians threw its halberd like a spear straight into the now-former man's crotch.

He started screaming bloody murder at the loss of his junk as he was tackled into the magical equivalent of a wormhole. The halberd had fallen out, leaving the wound to bleed freely. Silence fell after the abrupt departure; Harry was still steaming mad and ready to go a few rounds with somebody, anybody . . . hell, even Voldemort would do.

"Touch a child that way!" he roared, his magic lashing out at the deactivated Floo destroying the fireplace. "Piece of shite cock-sucking son of a bitch!"

With his rather vulgar ranting done with he stormed out of the office for the Tower, knowing that Hermione was in need of his presence. The Prefects that were on patrol fled for their lives as he glided through the halls, robes billowing and followed by his statues. Peeves appeared for all of two seconds before being turned into a block of ice from his glare. Snape had caught a glimpse of him but refrained from making himself a target, knowing that the temper he was seeing was all Lily Evans.

The Fat Lady, upon seeing his approach, opened the portrait without the password to save herself from the wild magic still flowing from Harry's body.

The scene inside the Common Room was of anarchy; Hermione had unceremoniously been marched in crying by her personal guard statue and the Gryffindors were up in arms. It got worse when all they could get out of her was "Lockhart" and "Harry", leading them to believe something foul was afoot. Then Potter appeared, looking ready to physically throw people out of the window. As soon as she saw him she was wrapped around him in a fierce hug, bawling her eyes out.

It took him until midnight to calm her down, threatening a trip to Pomfrey for some _Dreamless Sleep_ if she didn't at least try to get some shut-eye. The pair wound up falling asleep on the couch in front of the fire.

"He got away too lightly," was the last thing she'd heard him growl, making his opinion on people that would do that to children known.

"If the Ministry doesn't do it; I'll kill him."

TBC

Right, and that's that. Not quite happy with this piece, but I've gotta forge ahead somehow and this was one of the better ways to do it. Now to take a little time to myself then onward!

Props to all readers/reviewers!


	4. Part Three

Disclaimer: I make no claims at ownership of any copyrighted characters, places or events used herein. The only thing I make a claim to is this fic, which originated in my head and any original characters created by me herein. The following was made for public consumption at zero profit, and is not for sale except to the owning companies. Yes, I dream big.

_**Special Notes**_: None at this time, except the usual notice of _**my forum being up and running**_. Yes, I'm going to hound people until they show up if for no other reason than to tell me to shut up.

Left Behind, Part Three

By: (Driver) Jim Ohki

_**0715; Monday May 3, 1993; Hogwarts Great Hall**_

"Excellent nosh," Harry appeared to be hungry as he loaded his plate to the gills with breakfast foods. He set aside half a rasher of bacon for Hedwig, who was gliding in for her perfect landing on his right side.

For those that had paid any attention over the almost two years since his return to the Magical World, seeing him go all out on food was a new experience. Those that _really_ knew him on the other hand knew that he was distracting himself.

Only one knew, at the current time, why he was doing so. Hermione Granger hadn't been seen all weekend by the rest of the school _except_ Harry, igniting all kinds of rumors that the pair ignored. Now that she'd resurfaced for food -nobody knew if she'd eaten in the past two days- just about every eye in the Hall was on their persons.

Half of the food migrating from his plate to hers answered that question.

Hermione looked terrible, having had night terrors thanks to the actions of Gilderoy Lockhart. The Hogwarts rumor mill was churning out scenarios left, right and center in regards to the now-missing DADA Professor. Somehow, more than likely Albus Dumbledore trying to save face, the _'behind closed doors'_ actions of the blond fop were unknown to those that didn't need to know.

"Eat," Harry commanded, which coming from a twelve year old voice wasn't as impressive as it would be later in life. He could feel the eyes of many on his person but pushed the annoyance the gawkers generated away by focusing on his best friend. If their roles had been reversed, he would still be focusing on her in an effort to ignore his own problems; which was another of the nasty ingrained habits from his . . . housemates. The thought of the Dursley's reminded him to send them a letter informing the three that they were _not_ his family and were on their own. Once that crossed his mind, he realized that he had no clue what holdings were awaiting his attention at Gringott's and made a mental note to find out.

"Not really hungry," she mumbled, face buried in his left shoulder as she was sitting on that side. Part of her mind, that wasn't distracted by those in the Great Hall with nothing better to do but stare, was awed at his ability to ignore the masses with aplomb. Her arms had snaked their way around his torso, using the boy as a security blanket. If there was one thing that had been steady in the close to two years she'd been in the Magical World it was Harry Potter, even if their friendship started over the knocked-out body of a Troll.

"Eat," he repeated in the same tone, while holding a fork loaded with eggs in her direction with his right hand. In this instance he wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer.

She gave in, having issued her token resistance and took the offering. Being nearly a year older had its perks; one of them was the now giggling budding-romantic within the deepest reaches of her mind. There was no denying that what he was doing was sweet; even those with nothing better to do but watch the pair could say that. Of course there were those that sneered at the public display of affection but elected to keep their peace for the time being.

Harry Potter had gotten scary, almost overnight. Going after the girl attached to his person wasn't conductive to one's health, they figured.

As he held a piece of bacon up to Hermione's mouth, the attention of the Hall had shifted to the doors as the still-stuck together Weasleys appeared. Today, the freckles on Ginny's face were displaying _'Dumb and Dumber'_ while her expression was set in a scowl, which was strange considering the green tint to her skin tone.

"It's official," she declared to nobody, grumbling the entire time. "My brother is the grossest person on the planet. Got woken up at five by his arse sounding like a foghorn."

"Would you shut up already?" Ron had spent enough time with his sister; he wanted freedom any way he could get. He had even contemplated venturing into the Acromantula nest he'd heard rumors about and letting the spiders eat her. If it wasn't for the fact that he'd have zero alibi at the moment he probably would have too, no matter how much terror he felt at the sight of the eight-legged beasts.

"Yes," Harry's face was set in stone, as though agreeing with Ron was the last thing he wanted to do; either that or he didn't want to hear anymore about body functions. "We get it; your family suffers from some right nasty flatulence. Kindly take your . . . uh; _Ronald_, kindly take your attachment somewhere far, far away from me. Preferably the other side of the Castle."

"Food!" the youngest male Weasley objected immediately, not wanting to lose out on the goodness that was supplied by the Hogwarts kitchens. His ex-friend had made his stance on the youngest of the brood quite clear and wasn't about to argue the point. Not with so many witnesses around to see him go down in flames again.

"Here's some Floo powder," was the sarcastic comeback, although Harry didn't move so as not to disturb Hermione. "Call somebody that cares."

"Zing!" the Twins were clearly amused. Fred and George had sat down to have a serious conversation the night before. While family was family, so long that Harry didn't start any altercations they'd leave him in peace. It didn't hurt that the boy in question had talked to them after the Quidditch match -which they'd owned Hufflepuff, four hundred to nothing, giving Wood an orgasm from having the Cup- and told them to their faces that he'd leave their siblings alone if the two youngest did the same to him. They had learned from Percy that he'd hunted the ex-Prefect down and said the same to him.

Ron's face had gone red, knowing that the event he was hoping to avoid had come to pass anyway. He could almost feel the metaphorical flames as his social standing burned. It was bad enough that the Headmaster had liked the punishment suggestions and expanded them a bit: neither he nor Ginny could even _go_ to the Quidditch games, forget playing in them. He was rather upset that Neville of all people was the one to hang the pair out to dry.

Ginny, being more in touch with reality that _didn't_ involve her stomach, was far more aware of the stigma that was now attached to Percy, Ron and herself. As the first female Weasley in generations she'd entered Hogwarts a bit higher on the social ladder than Ron had. Now they were in the proverbial basement, looking up at everybody as the only way out was retracted. She and Percy were well aware of the fact that what they accomplished in school followed them into the real world. While his dream job at the Ministry was toast all she had to look forward to was being a clone of her mother: a dumpy-looking housewife with children crawling out of her ears. Of course, she'd have to _find_ somebody to overlook her stupidity in using a cursed diary without consulting anybody about it before even that came to pass.

It was even worse for the youngest pair of gingers as they'd gotten the confirmed vote of no-confidence from the one at the top of the social hierarchy -even if he wasn't aware of being at said top. If that didn't kill their chances of a life in school being banned from everything but classes finished them off.

Hermione had let her hair fall over her eyes, shading them from view so she could slyly watch her one-time friend and his carry-along baggage that was his sister. The choice was a no-brainer for anybody in taking Harry's side, even if she did try to get him to see reason. She was of the belief that everybody should get along, if even stoically. That was before her close encounter with disaster; now she just wanted the loudmouth to go away and leave her feeder in peace. It was strange; he had kept alternating between feeding himself, her and Hedwig without missing a beat.

Several sets of eyes belonging to witches around the Great Hall had been envisioning themselves in her place, being taken care of. They knew, being plugged into the gossip network in one form or another, that her behavior had radically changed after her detention with Lockhart . . . which was around the last time he'd been seen in the Castle. Without knowing what went on during that time they couldn't put the entire puzzle together.

Ron had spent so much time waffling, trying to argue without arguing that when he finally worked Ginny and himself onto the bench breakfast was over. The food disappeared before either could grab anything; leaving them with wide, watering eyes at the unfairness of it all.

The Great Hall emptied as the students headed to their respective classes, glad to be back in a stable routine with no threats of death lingering about. Each observed five 'person' squads of armor and statues on patrol, increasing the feeling of security.

The Second Year Gryffindors had their double Potions lesson this morning. The trek into the Dungeons was odd for the rest of the House as Harry and Hermione followed for a bit before turning into a different door -which happened to lead to Slughorn's old classroom. Before anybody could follow, even the Slytherins, Harry reappeared for a moment to give the students an amused smirk then slammed the door shut.

"Hermione, this is Professor Horace Slughorn," he introduced the two, before turning to his private teacher. "We'll need to start from scratch I'm afraid; Snape hasn't even gone over basic safety let alone any prep work that needs to be done before brewing."

The rotund man gave a sigh, looking disappointed at somebody -more than likely his Prodigy student failing so much as a teacher, or maybe even the Headmaster for allowing it- before waving the pair over to a workstation.

Hermione learned more about Potions in five minutes with her new instructor than she had in almost two years with the _'Bat of the Dungeons'_. Even she was unaware of some of the prep-work involved with the subtle art; her cauldron for example had stress micro-fractures on the inside which trapped tiny bits of previous brews. Because the breaks were so small she couldn't see them thus didn't know to clean them out, which in turn caused her potions to be off from perfect. As it was she needed a new one owning to the fact that the last usage opened up one of the cracks clean through to the base. She learned how much of a hazard that was as a mixture of two years worth of potions -not even enough to be seen with the naked eye, but there none the less- landed in the fire creating a vertical flash-firestorm colored burgundy.

Harry's cauldron wasn't in any better shape, for he had the same amount of previous attempts at brewing caked under the rim. This would in turn flake every time it was heated ruining his work.

As they moved over to the storage cupboard that contained brand-new pewter cauldrons they heard shouting from down the hall.

"Weasley!" thundered Snape, "It's bad enough you dragged your sister into a class she can't participate in but then you try to dunk her head in your half-brained attempt at _Wiggenweld_? Which, I might add, looks to be the exact opposite of what it should be and would no doubt melt the skin off of her skull!"

"But-!" they could hear their former friend try to defend himself, not that he had much of a chance.

"Idiot boy!" was loud enough to be clearly heard, instead of the original slightly muffled effect. "No, don't even look in that direction! I don't want to hear, see, or _think_ about Saint Potter and his 'private teacher'! Detention for the rest of the year; you'll be cleaning cauldrons with your toothbrush!"

Putting the goings on three doors down out of their heads, Harry and Hermione continued to learn everything that had been left out of their previous experience. The noise was turned into another practical lesson; not only in how to ignore the surroundings when in the middle of brewing but also demonstrating why magic shouldn't be used around unfinished potions.

"In the winter," Slughorn had a cauldron on the fire at his station as a visual aid, "you might be tempted to cast _Warming Charms_ around your laboratory. Doing so is a very dangerous idea; observe the flames here when the charm is applied."

The adjustable fire changed colors from the soft yellow to an angry orange, indicating that they had eaten the magic for fuel which superheated the cauldron quickly. Five seconds later it cracked like an egg, spilling boiling water onto the work surface. The water actually spread the fire instead of putting it out since it had a different fuel source.

"As you can see," their Professor had what looked like an out of control situation corralled quickly, "not only did the cauldron shatter from being heated too fast, but in this case the plain water spread the fire around. If this had been an actual potion at a volatile stage there could have been any number of effects. Explosions; conversions to gas, scalding vapor, and poisons just to name a few. This is one of the reasons why magic and potion brewing don't mix."

The pair of students looked at each other, wondering how close to disaster they had come.

"What about bluebell fire?" Hermione asked, getting into the lesson thus being closer to normal.

"Ah, excellent question!" another cauldron went onto the stand on a different table once clean up of the first was finished. "If you would please?" It was different seeing the blue flames just sitting there, looking innocent instead of lighting Professors on fire.

"Now, some would argue that conjuring your own fire doesn't hurt the brewing process," Slughorn had turned serious. "While this is true to an extent, there are other factors to take into account. First and foremost is that you cannot adjust temperatures with the fake fire. Unlike the burners we use today you can't point a wand at a conjured flame and turn the heat it produces up or down. So potions that require different temperatures inside the cauldron can't be made this way. Next is the amount of power put into the spell. Eventually the flames will go out, if you weren't paying much attention to the conjuring process -say instead, focusing on the potion you needed- the flame might vanish when you really need it ruining your work. Finally is the fact that it's a _magical fire_, which does interfere with some brewing processes."

Again looking at each other, Harry and Hermione silently answered various questions about _Polyjuice_ that they couldn't ask either Potion Master, being that the brew was restricted.

The class of three -two students and one teacher- continued along this vein for the double period. One thing that a lot of outsiders believed is that the times of the classes matched those of the Mundane world. This was so far from the truth to be laughable.

Every class started at eight in the morning going to nine forty-five, giving students fifteen minutes to motor their way across the Castle to get to the next class. Double periods used that time as a break, before class resumed from ten until eleven forty-five. The lunch rush, staggered depending on openings, started as early as eleven and didn't end until twelve forty-five. This gave every student at least half an hour to eat then fifteen minutes to get to their next class. Then the last two class slots of the day -one to quarter to three then three to quarter to five- before dinner then either free time or a nap for Astronomy at midnight.

How the staff operated, getting in each class was a mystery to those that actually thought about it. Every year had free periods, off days and alternating in the school week depending on their course load. Still, time was of the essence when seven years worth of children were in one location to be taught by twelve teachers -even though one of those was dead and could teach nothing else.

When the double ended, the pair made their way to the Tower to drop off their morning supplies, grab what they'd need for the afternoon -Charms and Herbology today- before heading down to lunch.

Waiting for them just inside the portrait hole was Ron Weasley. Ginny didn't have much choice in the matter, still being unable to move about under her own power being stuck to her brother's chest.

"Another day with a rampaging Snape!" he roared, earning the attention of those in the Common Room. "You just had to be even more special than usual didn't you? Oh no, can't bloody well share good things with others! Selfish bastard you are Potter, you take, take and take some more without giving anything back! Bah, if you'd never been born the world would be a better place!"

"Oh really?" his voice was so cold people across the room shivered. "You honestly believe that if I hadn't been born the world would be better? Yeah, what about that guy named Tom Riddle? You know, _him_; the guy that was on a tear killing people for a laugh? Voldemort? Yeah, I see you get it now-"

"Would you quit saying his name?" the ginger interrupted him, looking apoplectic in rage. "Nearly two years it's always coming out of your mouth, like you're invulnerable to it! Why couldn't you have died with your parents? Or better yet, if you'd never been born they'd still be ali-GURK!"

"Do not speak of what you do not know, Weasley," Harry had reached over Ginny's head to grip Ron's throat as tightly as he could. The other Gryffindors were frozen in place, having been watching like any human being would. They got a clue about the rage by the door not only when he started choking his ex-friend but when the window -magic-proofed due to being so high above the ground- shattered. The statue-guards that had been absent appeared from nowhere, even as Ron started turning blue.

Just as McGonagall -summoned by the alarm on the window to prevent students falling out- arrived she was treated to the sight of Harry Potter giving a glowing-eyes glare at Ron Weasley as he tossed the boy out the portrait hole by his neck.

"You are no Gryffindor," his voice was as hard as any had ever heard, which given the events of the past few days was saying something. "If I could I would toss you out of the gates; right now your only saving grace is your carry-on baggage stuck to your chest. Come near me again and you will not like the consequences. This can evolve into a Feud, so you understand how serious this is."

The last statement was a shocker for those listening. There hadn't been a declared Feud in two centuries -strangely, it was a Potter versus a Weasley then too- in the school. Then they took sight of Ron's robes, which had lost the Gryffindor crest. In its place was a generic Hogwarts patch, although the Lion was looking to the left. The Eagle, Badger and Snake were looking to the right as was the original design.

"You are now considered Houseless," once Harry uttered the words Ron's trunk and belongings appeared. "The Lion looking left is the symbol of the rejected as you are not worthy of our time. You had better figure out a way to get Ginny . . . wait, what do I care? Right, have fun being the pariahs of Hogwarts." Then he turned to the Fat Lady, completely ignoring McGonagall as she went from student to student getting the story. "These two are barred from the Tower; do not open for them or if they are anywhere nearby."

"And who are you to-?" the portrait started to protest, before the Castle intervened and changed her tune. "Right, sorry about that. The system is backlogged from the Diary and Basilisk running amok all these months. If you need to talk to the Castle any portrait will do. Your instructions are acknowledged in regards to the youngest Weasleys."

"Mister Potter!" the Head of House was completely exasperated now. Ever since his sojourn the week previous he'd been running roughshod on just about everybody. The situation was far enough out of control as it was; she'd have to inform Dumbledore of just what both boys said and did.

"What's going on here?" the Weasley Twins appeared, looking between the small crowd. Their youngest siblings were still on the floor in the corridor, Harry and Hermione were off to one side and McGonagall was looking agitated. They'd gotten word from a scared Fourth Year that Potter was going to toss Ron and Ginny out of the window in the Tower -seven floors above the ground.

"Your brother had to go that one step further," Harry told them of exactly what had been shouted in his face for all and sundry to hear. "So, are we still square or is this going to be a problem?"

"Let us," George was fidgety, knowing and not liking where the situation might end up at.

"write Mum," Fred was just like his twin, unable to stand still due to anxiety.

"Fine; I get a Howler from her and it'll be a Blood Feud," he warned the pair, before gesturing them into the Common Room.

For all of the mayhem, Hermione hadn't so much as twitched nor had she left Harry's side. This assertive Harry was still a novel experience for her, and while she liked it she had to wonder just where his boundaries were now.

Unnoticed by the Head of House or the pair of students the youngest Weasleys headed for the Great Hall, wanting lunch first since they'd yet to eat this day.

"May I have your time now?" McGonagall's sarcasm was thick, giving her stern look at maximum power.

"Ah, right," Harry had the decency to be sheepish. "Sorry about that; it's just that he went into a rant about me and my parents."

"I gathered that from the other students," her visage didn't soften in the least. "What I want to know is what happened to the window?"

At this he looked lost, turning to silently inquire with Hermione to see if she knew what was going on. Seeing an equally confused look he turned back to the Professor and shrugged, before giving her a real answer.

"I didn't notice anything different," from his lack of hesitation and stuttering he was being truthful. That was one of the tells to his not being forthright with people. Another was his tone of voice; he didn't _try_ to be innocent when he wasn't under scrutiny.

"Accidental magic then; powerful at that," McGonagall muttered to herself, before zoning back in to the conversation. "All right, on to another matter. Why did you get physically violent with Mister Weasley," she had to hold up her hand as he'd opened his mouth to argue, "and then banish him from Gryffindor House? Notwithstanding the comments about your family."

"Huh," at first, he was in thought; the way she had phrased the question made him stop and think before going off on a tangent. She was one of the few Staff that had figured out how to talk to Potter without earning his ire. "Y'know . . . I don't really know why myself. Granted, he's been going off at the mouth since Hermione was petrified about me being the child of Voldemort," he ignored the double-person flinch, "or some such rot. Then he goes and insinuates that it's _my_ fault my parents are dead by being born. Well, taking shots at me I can deal with; bring my parents into the picture and the wand comes out -so to speak."

"Before you ask _'how?'_," he continued, taking a look around the corridor, "I was able to eject him from the House without approval from anybody . . . my best guess is that my genealogy makes me owner of the Castle and Grounds. Beyond that, all I said was that he was no Gryffindor." He looked his Head of House in the eye, noting her surprise. "In truth, all Four of them but let me see what I can do about rebuilding Sal's reputation. I really need to find or make a family tree . . .," he trailed off in thought.

"Why are you so angry lately?" Hermione's voice was soft, fearing that she might bring that emotion down on herself. She was relieved when instead of shouting, cursing or otherwise being a preteen with attitude he looked thoughtful as if just understanding there was a problem. What she didn't know was that McGonagall had been fishing for the answer to that question without being as blunt as children can be.

"I need a break," Harry declared from nowhere, earning raised eyebrows from the pair. He elaborated, seeing their confusion. "This whole year has been . . . it's too much. First was Dobby stopping my mail over the summer; then there was this Heir business; add in a Basilisk; Dobby again, this time trying to injure me to the point I'd be sent elsewhere . . . you," he looked at his best friend, "being petrified then learning that Ginevra was the one attacking people. It doesn't matter one lick to me that she was coerced; she should have known better than to use a magical diary that had somebody else's name on it."

"The students being unable to make up their minds," he continued after a pause, eyes now glazed over as he reviewed the year to date. "Who I thought was my best mate instead becomes the leader of the Anti-Potter Club; did either of you know I caught him trying to petition for my expulsion?" Their shocked faces were enough of an answer. "The rest of the school being uneasy around me worked in my favor -in that case- as they feared what would happen if I really got mad. Then, to top everything this year: Lockhart. That's all I have to say on _that_ subject. Finding out things I should have known before I showed up last year . . . like I said, it's just too much and I need a break."

His explanation was logical for a change, instead of his usual waffling, half-truths and silence. The end of April had indeed been extremely stressful for numerous parties, which was why May opened with Quidditch. For some, it was enough of an outlet while others, like Harry, were still wound up rather tightly.

"Still," McGonagall almost appeared reluctant but forged ahead, "you cannot behave as you have been lately to either the students or the staff. The Headmaster has been rather distracted of late with the Board, trying to justify his position throughout the year but has taken a few moments to have me relay a message. While your standing has improved since the start of the year do not push your luck any further."

He got the underlying message that while he wouldn't be expelled, if he didn't mellow his attitude he'd be in severe trouble. Since it was one of his favorite teachers -Flitwick was another, and so long that Slughorn stayed professional he'd make the list too- that was the one speaking to him he listened.

Hermione felt a moment of panic, before her mind also decoded the statement for what had to be said but shouldn't in a corridor. Having heard the tale of the Flying Car at the start of first term she was aware that both Harry and Ron had been warned of expulsion if they didn't shape up. At one point she and Harry had sat down and figured out _why_ the Headmaster would utter such a warning: the Ministry had to fix one of his mistakes and thusly it couldn't be swept under the rug by Dumbledore. The two decided to take the Statute of Secrecy far more seriously afterwards; especially when he mentioned the warning from the Underage Magic Office thanks to Dobby.

It was disappointing; because of the Restriction of Underage Magic she couldn't show her parents what she'd been learning over the ten months she was at the school. She had heard that the rule was changed in nineteen eighty-seven after a First Generation was not only seen by somebody outside of the family; that person had also been extremely religious and murdered the student that night claiming Satanism and the usual nonsense that goes with Witchcraft.

That was one of the few rule changes to protect First Borns -more like the secret of magic as a whole, but still- that the Ministry passed with little fuss. Having been exposed to the Pure-Blood Propaganda Machine for nearly two years she could easily see that the Elitists/Extremists were told the change took away Muggle-Born rights. Like sheep to slaughter, they followed the shepherd.

When she told Harry of the rule change, he had remembered his Aunt's rant about his Mum performing magic at home. Now knowing why he'd get a warning for something as simple as a _Hover Charm_ in the presence of _'Muggles in the know'_, he decided to try his hardest to perform no magic when in their world -unless he absolutely _had_ to.

Although, he did have to admit it was strange. Once those new to magic hit their Majority they could use magic wherever, whenever. That part of the rules made no sense to either of them.

"That will be all," McGonagall brought them both out of their introspective moods. "Better get a move on if you want lunch."

"Right," Harry agreed, turning to the portrait which opened without the password again. "Thank you for the talk Professor; I feel . . . lighter? Relieved? I'm not sure what, but I do feel like weight has been lifted off of my shoulders."

"You're welcome Mister Potter," she gave her tight-lipped smile; the one that people miss if they aren't looking for it. "Now, if you'll excuse me; I need to see to a pair of Weasleys."

The pair switched out their morning class materials for the afternoon then made haste for the Great Hall. When they arrived they found Luna waiting for them at the 'head' of the table. This was the end furthest from the doors, which signified the standing of the students.

Ron and Ginny were in the first seat nearest the doors, an island unto themselves for nobody was closer than ten seats away. Percy was absent, more than likely trying to save his relationship as Penelope Clearwater was nowhere to be found either.

As Harry approached the end of the table a plush overstuffed wingback appeared, quite literally with his name on it. This earned raised eyebrows and looks of shock for the students paying attention. Shrugging, he gestured Hermione to sit on his left and Luna on his right, which put them on the end of the benches raising their status amongst the populace significantly.

Over at the Ravenclaw table the tormentors of Lovegood were suddenly very afraid for their well being. It had been bad enough when the animated statues forced them to return the blonds' belongings; now Potter was saying she was his right hand witch. They knew that messing with her in the future would bring him into the mix, and if the rumor mill was correct he'd literally thrown Ron Weasley out of Gryffindor completely.

If he could do that to his once-friend, what would he do to those he never liked to begin with?

The Hufflepuffs took one look at what was going on and went back to their lunch. Most of the pretense behind them being duffers was that they didn't stick their nose into other peoples' business . . . unless they had a valid reason to. Some of the Badgers were downright terrified of Harry's reaction to them giving him grief over the Heir of Slytherin mayhem. His lack of doing anything straight away was making them paranoid, wondering when he would get tired of putting them off and come rampaging into their territory. The sudden movement of the armor and statues at his command didn't help at all either.

The Slytherins were stoic, taking in the new arrangement with aplomb. One in particular could double as a kiwi again; Draco Malfoy had been laughing at the Weasleys before Potter arrived. When that custom chair -and the mostly overlooked polished gold place setting- appeared, his jealousy monster went berserk. He had known before First Year that the Boy-Who-Lived -if he had chosen to- could sit anywhere he wanted without a care in the world. When he stuck to wherever Weasel number six was, never further along than halfway to the Staff Table, he and others believed that Potter was mocking them. Each and every Pure-Blood that had ambitions for the future saw the wasted opportunities not only to acquaint himself to those with power but also that he never even acknowledged his station.

That had apparently changed, as the last of the Potter's turned to have a conversation with Susan Bones who wasn't that far away even if she was at the Hufflepuff table.

Thirty feet away, the youngest of the Weasley brood turned to look at the sounds of laughter coming from near the Head Table. They hadn't noticed when Harry nor Hermione had arrived; now seeing them sitting as far away as possible was just depressing. Ron had used up all of his anger and got absolutely nowhere, while Ginny had applied some brainpower into keeping quiet. She was certain -to herself, at least- that some time down the line Harry would wake up and see what he was missing out on. Then she could have her revenge denying him.

She had no idea just how long a wait that would be.

Lunch ended without much fuss, McGonagall having found her targets and delivering a message that nobody else in the Hall could hear. From the expression on Ginny's face she was utterly devastated about something; Harry couldn't care less but offered the loss of her dorm -and potential friends- as an explanation to the gossip network plug-in that was Lavender.

Since Herbology was either the last class of the day -bar Astronomy- or had free periods following to allow students a chance to get cleaned up before either being in a confined space or eating, the Second Year Gryffindors headed for Charms. The timing of the class on their schedule couldn't be better as Harry and Hermione had some questions about the subject, having thought about what Slughorn had imparted onto them.

This would also be the first time they had to be in the same room with the stuck-together dynamic duo without much choice.

Flitwick, being the kind and generous person he was, poked his head out of the door to his classroom before moving to shut it. It was a good thing he did, for the Weasley pair almost met the solid wood face first as Ron had been running late.

"Today we'll be discussing general purpose charms," the tiny Professor stood on his desk, looking from student to student. "Their use in everyday life, what they do, how they do it and -as an example, Muggle technology- how they interfere with their surroundings."

He noticed that almost immediately after finishing both Mister Potter and Miss Granger had their hands in the air. While the brunette wasn't a surprise to anybody, seeing the boy participate was something new. Deciding to humor himself he called on Harry, earning a pout from Hermione which was the reaction he wanted.

"Isn't the interference aspect far more that just Mundane devices?"

The question caught the Head of Ravenclaw -and his students, who shared this class with the Gryffindors- completely off-guard.

"Can you elaborate?" he countered, wanting to know where this came from.

"This morning," Harry replied, "Professor Slughorn showed us what happens when a _Warming Charm_ is used near open flame and explained why using such magic during potion-brewing was a bad idea. Are there any other charms that don't react well to their environment, if they were trying to change their surroundings?"

Flitwick felt his eyes widen a tad, which those that noticed couldn't classify the reaction. The question sparked intellectual debate amongst the students, who quietly traded stories of magic-gone-wrong at home. It was odd, seeing even the Gryffindor students offering their experiences.

All but two, that is. He caught sight of the Weasley pair sulking quietly, which when one takes the Twins as siblings into consideration was saying something.

"Yes," the Professor got the attention of the class, "there actually _are_ charms that react poorly to the area in which they are applied. Any type of heating charm turns into a fuel source if there are open flames nearby; cooling charms are canceled out in the presence of ice. Growth charms have been known to run amok if used on transfigured objects, depending on the situation."

As he spoke, the students wrote out their notes.

"Let's see," he continued, pausing in thought from time to time. "Animation charms have been documented as lethal to living tissue," this earned more than a few shocked looks. "Oh yes, you see if you try to animate something that's already alive the two cancel each other out-"

"Professor," Harry interrupted, eyes wide as his mind put something together, "that sounds more like the _Killing Curse_ than a simple animation charm."

"Ah!" for the heavy conversation, Flitwick sure appeared delighted. "Yes, it does. The reason behind that is quite simple; that's what the _Avada Kedavra_ actually spawned from. In thirteen twenty-four a wizard was under attack by Muggles, and in defense he attempted to animate his pitchfork. The charm missed, hitting one of the attackers and . . . well, the result was one dead, a panicked mob -that promptly fled-, and a wizard that understood he had something fearsome to fight back with."

"The problem," his visage turned grave, "was that a Royal Wizard -remember, this is _before_ the Statute of Secrecy went into effect- that was on patrol was informed of both the attack and the death by the Magical Community. The two got into a duel, which the other people of the area could watch, and the peasant tried to use the animation charm again; this time deliberately aiming at another living being. When the Royal Wizard blocked it with a standard shield, the peasant panicked thinking he was going to die. He knew that he hadn't been as educated as his counterpart and didn't have as an extensive of a repertoire to choose from."

"There is an old charm," Flitwick had paused for almost five minutes, having an internal debate. "That had fallen out of use after the Muggles of the time got a hold of the incantation. The Magicals stopped using the charm, which was a predecessor to the _Vanishing Charm_, to protect themselves. I'm certain each Muggle-Born in the Castle can tell you just what I'm talking about."

"Abra Cadabra?" Padma Patil surprised the room by being the first to answer. She looked stoically back at them, before opening her mouth. "What? My family is from India, where Muggles and Magicals mix far more than they do here."

"Yes," Flitwick cut in, defusing the situation before it got too awkward. "Now, the peasant wizard had decided if he was going to go out he was taking his opponent with him. He had also heard from passing Magicals that some of the old direct-cast spells could be modified just by _slightly_ changing the incantation."

The light of understanding appeared in more and more sets of eyes as imaginations drew the story to a conclusion.

"Direct-cast?" Parvati Patil hadn't heard that term before.

"No movement; point and shoot," came from a distracted Harry, as his mind was elsewhere.

"Correct," Flitwick nodded in his direction. "This was the first recorded usage of the _Killing Curse_. When questioned by reinforcements, the peasant confessed to visualizing an animation charm coupled with the proper wording. Back on our original topic; color-changing charms destroy eyes if directly applied. _Hover Charms_ cause odd effects when used on an object that's already had the _Featherlight_ applied beforehand."

From there the class really took off, as each example -minus the animation charm- were demonstrated. The Professor realized that he might very well have made an error in telling the students how to use a _Killing Curse_ and was distracting them. He knew the notes they took would cause a problem, so he discretely moved about the room modifying them to exclude the animation aspect.

That was, until he came to Harry Potter's.

Written off to the side was _'AK can possibly be blocked; cancel animation aspect only; rest of the magic harmless'_. Below that was _'Sacrifice not needed, did she know this?'_

That saddened the old Professor, knowing of what Harry was thinking. Taking a glance to his left -Potter's right- showed that Hermione Granger had read what was written and looked torn in how she should handle the situation.

"Pardon me sir," the young boy in front of him spoke up at length. "How does one get to be as knowledgeable as you and the other Professors are?"

Flitwick felt an eyebrow rise against his wishes, "What, exactly, do you mean by that Mister Potter?"

"Well," the answer came unbidden, "between Professor Slughorn and yourself, I've learned more about how magic truly affects its surroundings in one day than almost two years here at Hogwarts. I wouldn't have even known to ask the right question if it hadn't been for my potions lesson this morning."

"Ah," the tiny Charms teacher understood. "To be truthful, teaching about the negative effects of magic on just about everything has been frowned on for some time now. We, the Staff, are supposed to make magic this grand end-all be-all when there are many ways to abuse it. Me, I learned most of what I know on the Dueling Circuit. Professor McGonagall learned most of what she knows from self-experimentation -which is highly dangerous. Headmaster Dumbledore scoured all of Britain between the death of his sister and his defeat of Grindelwald, learning all he could -along with Apprenticing to Nicholas Flamel."

The Gryffindor Duo -no longer a Trio- were shocked. There was no secondary/higher learning once they graduated from Hogwarts; no Universities or anything of the sort?

"You'll find," their teacher went on, keeping his voice down so as not to attract the attention of the other students, "that many things that _should_ be taught here at Hogwarts or after are not. You have to go out in the world and find whatever it is you want to know yourself; be it lost tomes of magic, Masters of the field for Apprenticeships or what have you."

Harry and Hermione shared a glance; the pair were slowly turning into the highly motivated students that wouldn't stop learning no matter what. It did bother them that they had to fish for answers, when the entire school should be told up front that what they learned wasn't nearly enough to maximize each person's potential. They did understand that it was up to the individual to follow through with what the Staff taught; some were content to lounge around with their -as Flitwick put it- be-all end-all fixer of everything magic and do nothing with their lives. Others -it dawned on Harry that this was the original creed of Ravenclaw _and_ Slytherin- desired the knowledge and had the ambition to go get it, then used what they learned to make their lives better.

The rest of the lesson followed the tangent Harry had started, flowing into not just environmental errors but also Mundane devices.

_**1500; Same Day; Greenhouse Three**_

"It's strange to be doing something other than Mandrakes," Hannah Abbott sighed as she put her dragon-hide gloves on.

The human-esque plants had been their Year's project, since none of the other students had done anything with them. Professor Sprout was like that; she would set a specific year-long project then add in filler while waiting for whatever to grow. The Herbology course was strange like that; unlike Transfiguration, Charms and Defense there were no immediate effects or gratification. What some never figured out was that the course taught patience to the students. Those that did went on to take Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, as they understood that breaking a piece of magic down took time. Another thing that was subtly ingrained in the students -which helped with Care of Magical Creatures- was how to handle rowdy non-human sentience without getting oneself hurt.

There was a reason Draco Malfoy was barely scraping by in the class, after all. If he didn't tone his desire to be at the center of attention -read as: the propaganda machine- down he would more than likely anger something that could kill him with ease. Three times Sprout had to pull the Malfoy scion out of the _Venomous Tentacula_ in the last month alone.

"Well, they matured and have been shipped to Saint Mungo's," Hermione offered, also dawning her own set of gloves. "We've no real use for them at Hogwarts; I think Slughorn kept three as an emergency standby."

"Speaking of," Susan Bones rounded out the table of four, "what's his teaching like?"

"We asked him to start over," Harry answered, having calmed down significantly since lunch, "with safety and preparation work then last year's syllabus. We missed so much 'cause of Snape and his attitude it's not even funny."

The students at the work tables around them listened in, frowning when they heard that there were pieces of their education missing. When they heard of the shattering cauldron and how it came to be they shared looks with each other. Why the younger Potions Professor never said anything was beyond them.

"Then there was Charms," Hermione was telling the pair of girls, "where we found out about not just how fickle magic can be but the probable origin of a nasty spell."

The two had come to an agreement about not calling it by its' name when in public. This was more for the protection of the other students than themselves; they didn't want to be responsible for some idiot thinking that trying out an animation charm on a fellow student was a good idea.

"I say probable," she continued, "as while the case was documented, it happened before the Statute of Secrecy and the Classification of Magic in sixteen ninety-two. By then the spell had been changed who knows how many times to what it is today."

"Right," Professor Sprout called the class to attention, even as Ron and his carry-along came huffing and puffing -Hufflepuffing?- into the Greenhouse nearly late. "Since the crop of Mandrakes are finished we'll move onto care of a Whomping Willow." She pulled a youngling out from under her table. "This sapling will be our model as the full grown adult on the Grounds is far too dangerous for Second Years to approach. As you can see, even one this young is taking swings at me thus the name."

Harry wanted nothing to do with that particular species of tree again if he could help it. Something told him that he'd have to go near the blasted thing again at some point. Hearing the moaning coming from Ronald he could tell the sentiment was shared, even if they were no longer friends.

"On every Willow," Sprout continued, "there is a knot somewhere near the root system that will temporarily calm it down. Most of these trees grow their roots in such a way as to hide the knot so that they aren't overly defenseless."

She showed them what to look for. Indeed, the knot was not only hidden by the roots but also camouflaged to look like the trunk of the tree.

"Another thing to keep in mind is that this species is nigh impervious to magic," the dumpy Professor had put the baby Willow down, stepped back and waved her wand at it to no effect. "The only way to prod the knot is physically; you can levitate a branch or rock into it but no direct magic will affect the mood of the tree. Now then, under your tables are juvenile Whomping Willows; place them on your stations and study their movements. Look for ways to get at the knot without hurting them and if one gets its' branches tangled calm it and set it right."

"Oh; Misters Potter and Weasley?" she turned back to the class, singling them out. "The adult Willow has finally healed from your adventure before term; do not hurt its' children or it may very well pull itself out of the ground to get at you."

"Speaking of," Harry wasn't going to take that laying down, "have you or Hagrid seen a turquoise Ford Anglia lurking around that tree or in the Forest?"

"I'll show you after class," was her deadpan response, not amused in the least.

The lesson carried on with Neville dominating as was usual. The four at Harry's table had a docile version of the Willow as it only swayed a bit. Ron's had somehow jumped off of the table to latch onto his face, the planter it was in resting on Ginny's head like a shelf. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie MacMillan had one that kept giving them the equivalent of _'the finger'_ and shaking a cluster of branches like a fist in their direction.

Taking notes on the care of a Whomping Willow -no matter how old it was- had to be one of the most tedious things the class had done to date. At the end of the period the students were all too happy to get away from the violent species of tree. Since dinner wasn't due to start until six -the hour fifteen minute break between the last class and mealtime was for students to either relax a bit, ask Professors questions if needed or get cleaned up- the class lollygagged their way back to the Castle. The other students wanted to see just what Potter had been talking about, even if just a glimpse.

Professor Sprout, Harry, Hermione and the inseparable Weasleys -without invitation; they wanted to be able to tell their father what became of the car- headed into the Forest nearest the Lake. This area, due to there being a water source above ground and very close to the surface underneath was more like a marsh than the denser, packed-earth variety that normally is found within such a place.

The first clue that they were nearing the vehicle-come-to-life was the pair of ruts heading into the marsh. From the way the vegetation was laid down the undercarriage had to have been almost scraping the ground. Given that the car had smaller wheels and tires than the modern full size sedans the pair raised in the Mundane World were used to didn't instill much confidence. Knowing that the car was at least twenty-five years old, had a tiny engine and a gearbox that Ron had nearly shredded didn't help in the least.

The group crested a small rise, and there in a bog was the Anglia . . . and Hagrid, trying to get the car out of the slop. The area was a low-spot, almost level with the surface of the Lake surrounded on all sides by the marsh. What the car was stuck in was more water than mud, as was evidenced by the sound out water slapping water. The one wheel that was spinning was barely visible, having dug a hole in the soft soil underneath.

Hagrid appeared to be stuck too, as he was pulling on his right leg and quietly cursing to himself. He eyes lit up when the car announced the troop's presence by sounding the horn in a desperate plea for assistance.

"A lil 'elp 'ere!" he called, nearly falling over backwards as his leg came free. Then he tried a different place to step and if his facial expression was to go by sank into the ground again.

"It's a good thing I was coming out here then," Sprout had her wand in her right hand but looked unsure of herself. The Keeper of Keys had to weigh close to five hundred pounds while the car was closer to two thousand. No mere levitation spell would work for either, especially as neither could assist with getting out of the bog.

The car, being closer to alive than previously thought, stopped trying to get free right then. Even the engine shut down, dropping the noise level to just the background sounds of a forest.

"Don't you quit!" Harry yelled, shaking his left fist at the car. He knew it had to be tired, having no idea how long it had been stuck in mud that for all intents and purposes wasn't. He could see water, colored brown from the churned earth, filling in the holes the wheels had made. His hunch about being tired was proven by the engine cranking over extremely slow, as if the starter -or battery, if there was one- was bad. "Right, here we go . . ."

The eyes of the rest of the people turned to look at him as he gave a sigh and closed his eyes. Reaching out with his hands, he envisioned the car lifting out of the swamp to which it did with a wet, sucking sound. Hagrid was also floating above the tepid water, looking awed as both he and the Anglia were moved to the crest of the rise.

"What in the world was it doing out here?" Hermione wondered, looking at her surroundings. There was nothing attractive about the area in the least; as the sun was beginning to set gnats could be seen flitting about, being the pests they were. At least, she hoped those were generic gnats and not some magical equivalent of them or mosquitoes.

She _hated_ mosquitoes.

"Reckon the Centaurs scared it," Hagrid had sat down and taken his galoshes off, draining them of the water that had gotten in them. At the same time he was getting mud off of the exterior, looked a tad disgusted to be doing so. "Seen it near the 'Cromantula nest; didn't so much as twitch around them. Bane on the other hand tried several times to shoot the poor blighter with his bow."

The Anglia was now acting like a puppy; boot in the air with the bonnet lowered, wiggling back and forth. Ron and his attachment tried to approach, only to get an engine-rev growl in response.

"You still mad?" Harry thought it was silly asking a car of all things how it _felt_. The answering bob of the front end he took as a nod, even though the front tires had left the ground when it did so. "Well, he's on his own now; made a right mess of things this year he did. C'mon, let's get out of here before the sun goes down."

He had taken note of the damage the car had suffered running wild in the Forbidden Forest. Both mirrors had been knocked off of the fenders, deep scratches ran the length of the body, every light and window was broken or cracked. He shook his head, feeling bad that he was part of the reason that it looked as it did. One thing that Harry had failed to notice was that he was floating the car along behind him as he began the trek back to the Castle, Hermione at his side while the rest of the group gawked.

The walk was silent for the most part as Sprout and Hagrid kept an ear open for the inhabitants of the Forest. The last thing they needed was rowdy Centaurs causing a scene over them _leaving_ their territory. Once they passed the tree-line and onto the lawn did the Professor speak up.

"Mister Potter," she got his attention in such a way so as not to break his concentration, "I do believe you can put the automobile down now."

It was comical to watch as he turned his head to look over his right shoulder, eyes widening in realization that yes _he_ was indeed floating a two thousand pound car without _paying attention_ to what he was doing. Water and mud still dripped off of the chassis, earning grumbles from the Groundskeeper about making more work for him with the immaculate lawn.

"Just a minute," he turned fully to face the Anglia, setting it spinning slowly like a rotisserie before jabbing his wand, in his right hand, and his left hand at the car that was making odd complaining noises -a whine from the engine, a raspberry from the tailpipe and the like- not only cleaning it but fixing it good as new.

It was strange to those watching -and ducking for cover- as pieces of the car came zooming out of the Forest before reattaching themselves. Ron wasn't quite fast enough to dodge and took a mirror housing to the head, knocking him -and his silent accessory- down cursing up a storm.

Even the faded turquoise paint looked fresh when he was done. The car shone in the setting sun light, and as it came to rest upright on its wheels did the applause from the front doors to the school start. Heads turned fast enough to leave cricks in necks to see most of the student body and the Staff showing their appreciation for the unintentional show.

Harry, unknown to him at the time, had gained another lifetime follower in the form of one Ford Anglia.

_**2000; Same day; Gryffindor Common Room**_

"What a day," Harry gave of a sigh of satisfaction, sitting in his conjured burgundy overstuffed armchair. "And to think, there's still a bunch to research and learn!"

"Ooh," Hermione gave off a moan of pleasure at the thought of immersing herself in books. She imagined the fortress she could build with them while she read, keeping the outside world at bay for just that much longer.

"It's disappointing though," he continued on, not having heard her noise, "that Hogwarts amounts to Secondary school and not much else. One would think that there would be colleges and universities to keep old magic alive; instead we get enough to know that there is more out there then . . . '_poof'_, nothing. We're going to have so much to do and not a lot of time to do it."

"What do you mean?" she was brought out of her daydream by reality breaking her door down.

"Well," he turned left then right making sure they couldn't be heard, "beyond my connection to the Castle I know much of nothing about my family. I've got to go to Gringott's and get is all sorted out; then there's relearning everything and mastering it to the level I was at before Tom came calling that night . . . I've also got to venture into the Mundane World and grab every book I can on computers, programming, electronics and the like. I haven't told anybody this yet but Hogwarts . . . she's alive for a greater reason than just _'magic'_. The Founders built her that way using techniques long since lost to the rest of humanity and to even get the gist of what something does I need the knowledge available." He could see that she didn't buy a word he just said, so getting up from his chair he moved over to the right of the fireplace.

Hermione swore her eyes were going to leap out of her head when he waved a hand over the sixth brick from the top and it slid out like a drawer. Inside were square-cut transparent crystals; some where glowing with power while a couple appeared to be burned out or otherwise damaged. One thing that stood out was that inside each little square were a single line. It either went straight up, straight across, up or down at a forty-five degree angle or even had ninety degree turns for reasons she couldn't fathom. He didn't leave the panel open long, closing it before sitting back down.

"That's the veins of Hogwarts," his voice was near a whisper, wanting to keep such a thing a secret for as long as possible. "There are access points like that all over the Castle; some are heavily damaged while others haven't seen use in five hundred years. Before I mess with anything I'd like to know what I'm doing."

Yes, their plate was indeed full . . .

TBC

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